


The Many Ways It Could End

by Lightbringer34



Series: Animorphs Collection [1]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, M/M, Polyamory, Tragedy/Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightbringer34/pseuds/Lightbringer34
Summary: A collection of Animorphs stories I've written, moved here from elsewhere. Some are happy, some are sad, but the most appropriate are bittersweet. Animorphs is complicated, and so are its characters, which is why I enjoy writing about them. A few of these short stories are connected, but most are stand-alone. A few are for the old kink list Polymorphs, which are responsible for those Explicit tags.Endings are always the hardest part of a story to get right, (GOT s8) which makes them all the more important. Some stories are beginnings, but most are about endings. Which is which depends on your viewpoint, really.
Relationships: Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill & Tobias (Animorphs), Jake Berenson & Marco, Jake Berenson/Cassie (Animorphs), Marco/Rachel (Animorphs), Rachel (Animorphs)/Tobias (Animorphs)
Series: Animorphs Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829452
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. Something, Everything is Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Demenior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/gifts).



My name is Jake. I can’t tell you my real name, my full name. I can’t because I know if I did, the Andalites would hunt me down and kill my entire family as we slept.

I’m here to tell you about a war. A war my friends and I have been fighting, in secret, for months now. But I’ve gotten ahead of myself, let’s start at the beginning:

There were five of us in the beginning. My best friend Marco, my cousin Rachel, the loner Tobias, and kind, sweet, Cassie. David showed up much later. I, well, I liked Cassie, so I suggested that we all walk home together. Of course, because we were “stupid, idiot teenagers” as Marco so often puts it, we decided to walk home through the abandoned construction site.

That was the last time we were really alone in our own heads.

There’s no real way to slide into it, so I’ll be blunt: an alien spaceship crash-landed in front of us, nearly decapitated Rachel too. It was jet black, and smooth, like a stealth fighter, but shaped like a battle axe. We could see some kind of weapons mounted under the nose of the ship and along the wings. It looked deadly, even more so from where we all were, pressed flat into the gravel. But we could see it was damaged, with massive chunks of the smooth black armour ripped out, exposing wires and circuitry beneath, with flames billowing from the back.

Tobias was the first to recover. Even now, he’s the best of us at reacting to the unusual, the bizarre, and it’s saved our lives more than once.

“Hello?” he called out, moving forward to knock on the ship’s side, “Is anyone in there?”

<Unfortunately, there is.>

We all jumped about a mile in the air I think. A voice in our heads, speaking perfect English no less. Tobias grinned while the rest of us just sort of gaped in terror.

<Stand back, then, we are coming out.>

We all backed up obediently as the ship rumbled, internal mechanisms groaning from the stress, but the axe-ship’s haft yawned downwards, disgorging its strange passengers. Even now I can safely say that Esplin 9466 and Alloran-Semitaur-Corass were two of the strangest beings we’ve ever seen. Cassie would tell you that life and evolution confirms to no expectations or rules beyond what is necessary for survival, and Marco would make some kind of joke about Star Trek, but as first impressions go, a blue centaur is not what you expect.

The alien staggered down the ramp, holding both arms to its side, trying to stem a massive gash in its side, which dripped blue blood onto the gravel. Despite his best efforts, he collapsed onto his knees as he reached the bottom. Cassie and Tobias ran toward him first and the rest of us trailed along behind. Cassie immediately bent down to examine the wound, years of veterinary training under her mom taking over. “You’re hurt!”

<So nothing unusual there.> The blue centaur looked at her, and though he had no mouth, I could sense he was smiling. Something about the way his eyes crinkled around the edges. <Be quiet Esplin, this is not the time for sarcasm!>

<I’d say there’s always time for sarcasm. Just because we’re going to die doesn’t give me an excuse to stop being a pain in your hooves.>

Now that was confusing. We stared at the centaur in silence until Marco spoke up.

“Uh, hey buddy, are there more of you hidden in there?” He pointed to the bladed ship, which smouldered quietly behind us.

The alien’s shoulders slumped, and his scythe tail dragged along the ground. <No, human. All my comrades are dead, and only Esplin and I remain.>

Marco’s face scrunched up. “Where’s this Essplin then?” The centaur tapped his head. <In here, with me.>

<As opposed to being out there, with some luckier host, fighting Andalites.>

This was too much. “Woah, woah, woah!” I shouted, waving my arms at the centaur. “This is too much. What is this Esplin, and who are these Andalites? Can you explain first?”

He looked me in the eyes, and I will remember his response forever.

<The Andalites are your enemies, and they have come to destroy you.>

CH 2

We looked at him numbly. No one doubted, or said “You’re lying.” He’d said, or thought it, with too much certainty, too much conviction for doubt. Despite Cassie and Tobias’s efforts, there was now a large pool of blood on the ground. He was dying and was trying to warn us of something terrible.

The centaur drew himself up into what looked like a formal stance. “I am Alloran-Semitaur-Corass, the Exiled War-Prince, a friend of the Yeerk Empire, and a traitor to my people.” His thought-voice was proud and unashamed. “The Andalites believe they are a superior race, that they and their chosen species alone deserve to live, love, and travel among the stars. They scorn the weak, the disabled, the helpless, while calling for peace and understanding. They slaughtered the Arn, unleashed a quantum virus on the Hork-Bajir homeworld, and killed the Taxxon queen. For these crimes alone, they should suffer.”

Alloran looked down at us, stern, sad and proud. “And for this, I fight them. I turned against my own people, my own family, because I knew they were wrong. I let Esplin, a Yeerk slug into my brain and together we fight.”

Marco made the face I’m pretty sure all of us had. “You let a slug into your brain? That’s disgusting.”

Alloran laughed then, a ringing laughter that echoed through our heads and made his shoulders quake, only to be stopped by a wet hacking cough.

<Something’s caught in my throat.>

An eyestalk winked at Tobias.

<I think it’s my throat.>

Tobias blanched as Alloran rolled his eyes.

<Sorry. Battlefield humor. Esplin finds it funny.>

“I’m sure he does.” Said Rachel shortly. “But you still didn’t answer us. Why’d you let a slug into your head?”

<Because without Alloran, I am blind, deaf, and helpless. The Andalites could slaughter thousands of Yeerks simply by stepping on them. Together, we are something far greater. >

Far above us, two bright lights appeared above us and Alloran’s stalk eyes saw them just as we did. Tobias asked the obvious question: “Are they friends of yours?”

Alloran’s eyes narrowed. “No. They are not.”

Ch 3

As the Andalite fighters raced towards us, we stared blankly at Alloran, who was obviously having some fiercly internal debate with Esplin, who we still hadn’t seen. Words kept drifting to us over the thoughtspeech link.

<Impossible. Illegal. Idiot. Children. Regret this all our lives. Sharing. Hope.>

Finally, Alloran turned to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

<There is a black bag in the cockpit of my Blade Ship. Bring it to me, and your world may yet have a fighting chance. Everyone else, come take my hands, and Esplin and I will tell you as much as we can.>

Marco looked skeptical. “You can’t give us some sweet laser gun or tell us the secret to light speed?”

Alloran shook his head. <Information and courage are your weapons now. Without them you will not survive.> A warmth flooded through me, through all of us then, even as I turned and headed into the Blade Ship. <But we know you will.>

The Blade Ship’s interior was stark, utilitarian, and full of smoke and sparking wires. Covering my face with one arm, I plunged into the hallway, navigating mostly by instinct. My sneaker stepped into something squishy and warm and I pulled it free, trying very hard not to look down. Finally, mercifully, I arrived at the cockpit.

Turns out it was less a cockpit and more of a bridge, like something you’d see on Star Trek. Platforms where technicians worked controls, and clear positions where officers could sit and command, all in smooth silver and metal, though the whole thing had a cobbled together look, like they’d used several different machines to build these stations. Alloran’s black bag was unsurprisingly in the captain’s position, nestled into a small alcove next to two photos. The first was a floating hologram of aliens of all sizes, shapes, and colors, holding up appendages dipped in green. The sashes and decorations made me think of graduation or a military ceremony. The second was a Polaroid, clearly taken on Earth. It showed two unfamiliar people, an older man and a much younger woman waving in front of the Hollywood sign. I grabbed the bag and the photos and ran for the exit. This time I didn’t step on the squishy surface.

When I returned, Alloran’s thoughtspeach was clipped and his chest was heaving. Cassie and Tobias kept their hands over his wound, but it was clear he wasn’t going to make it. Apparently he’d been filling them in on whatever it was Andalites could do.

<-Imagine all the animals around you every day of your life, the bugs, the beasts, the creatures you never even pay attention to. That is the terror of morphing, what we have to face every day. A fly in the ceiling morphing into an Andalite warrior with a tailblade swinging at your face in the dead of night, or A Varnax on the battlefield.> Alloran-or perhaps it was Esplin, shuddered. <By the Emperor, I hope you never have to face that.>

I tapped Alloran-Esplin on the shoulder and held out the photos. “I uh, I got that bag you wanted, and some extra stuff.” His eyes traced across the photos and even on an alien face, with no nose and four eyes, we could see the love and loss etched into every line of his visage. He blinked, and placed the photos into Tobias’s hands.

<Keep these. Go to the Sharing, they will help you. Alright?>

Tobias nodded frantically and shoved them into his jacket. The lights above us had grown much closer. They were now the size of baseballs and getting larger fast.

Ch4

<Gather close children. We don’t have much time.> Alloran reached into the bag and drew out a bright orange sphere. It glowed softly and colors swirled in its depths like currents in a murky ocean. We drew into a rough circle around Alloran-Esplin.

<Now you have to make a choice, children. This orb, the Karthank Device, will allow you do many things a Yeerk can. You can meld minds, leap between bodies, learn skills from other minds, and more. It is a dangerous power and only our most trusted warriors and Yeerks are offered this gift. But without it, your world will be lost, and so I ask you: will you take this power? Will you stop the Andalites from destroying or enslaving your people?>

The silence as his words hung in the air seemed to last the rest of our lives. Rachel, Cassie, Tobias, Marco, they all turned and looked at me. To me. To my decision. I swallowed, my throat cracked and voice hoarse from the smoke. I thought about my dog Homer, my parents, my brother Tom. I thought about the times I’d gone horseback riding with Cassie and Rachel, the quarters spent in the mall with Marco earlier that night. I couldn’t let all that be destroyed. I nodded and reached out a hand.

“I’m in. I’ll fight.”

Rachel was next, then Cassie, then Tobias, and finally Marco. We all agreed.

Alloran looked at us and held up the orb.

<As you wish.>

It glowed brighter as we touched our hands to it.

<It is done. Go now, and fight well. But remember, do not stay inside another mind for longer than two hours, lest you lose yourselves. Remember, two hours!>

And as the Andalite fighters landed, as the swooping blue lights found the dying Andalite War-Prince, we ran.

Everyone except Cassie, who stayed next to the Andalite rebel, holding his hand. Alloran put his hand up to her forehead and she jerked like she’d been shocked. Alloran pushed her to her feet and away towards the rest of us as she stumbled away.

We didn’t go far, of course. We couldn’t just turn and run while Alloran and Esplin died. Besides, some part of me wanted to see these other Andalites, what they were like. I guess even then, some part of me was already looking for weaknesses, for strategies. Well, that’s why I stayed. Another part of me thought that if Alloran won or if he was winning, we could help. Turn the tide and help him win one more battle.

Then the Andalite fighters landed and I knew it was useless. Naïve to think we could make any kind of difference. Alloran was one wounded tired Andalite, struggling to breathe, let alone stand up. These new arrivals were nothing like that.

Ch5

Their ships were bright blue, smooth and curved, all grace and lightness where the Blade Ship was blunt and crisp, a statement of intent even in death. Their occupants walked off the ships in two neat rows, tail blades held high and their many eyes scanning the area, looking for traps. They held long rifles and pistol-like weapons in their arms, fanning out in a circle around Alloran as we ducked down into a hollow in the construction sight. We could hear the faint clip-cop of hooves on concrete.

“You can wake me up now.” Hissed Marco in a faint whisper, “I’ve had enough of this dream.”

< **Elfangor**.> hissed Alloran and Esplin, together, and we could feel the hatred in his voice. I peeked above the lip of the hole and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the others doing the same. I felt out of breath and I could barely pull my head out of cover. I wanted to curl into a ball and pray they wouldn’t find me. It was a fear so deep, so encompassing, for a moment I felt nothing else, only the fear. It’s the kind of fear that makes you want to throw aside all dignity, fall to the ground and beg, please, please don’t kill me. It becomes your universe.

And in that instant, I felt a warm spark within my chest, like a little fire. My limbs stopped shaking and I could move again. And I heard Esplin’s voice in my head. He was lighter in tone than Alloran’s heavier more serious thought-voice.

<Now is not the time for fear, kids.>

Another flash of warmth.

<That comes later.>

I grinned despite myself, despite the insanity of the situation. Even facing down death far from home, Esplin could crack jokes, could share some of his strength with us. He and Marco would’ve been great friends, I think.

There was a commotion among the soldiers around Alloran-Esplin. Heads turned back to the fighters. Someone else was coming out. An Andalite was standing at the top of the fighter, looking down at Alloran-Esplin.

<Well, well.>

“Can he hear our thoughts?” whispered Rachel.

“If he can we are so freaking dead,” murmered Marco through clenched teeth.

<He cannot hear you. He is merely broadcasting his thoughts. This is a great victory, so he wants all to hear.>

The Andalite tilted his head and began to walk slowly down the platform. <What have we here? A miserable traitor and a deserter. Ah, but not just any traitor, the disgraced War-Prince Alloran-Semitaur-Corass, himself, and his vile slug Esplin. It’s an honor to see you again, Alloran. How many of our soldiers did you kill at Stross-M’kai? Seven? Eight?>

Alloran merely stared down Elfangor and said nothing. Esplin whispered to us <It was a damm sight more than eight, that _straken_.>

<You do know, you are the last rebel in this sector of space. Your disgusting Pool Ship burns in the atmosphere, along with all the filthy slugs inside of it. And your rebellious band of misfits are all dead, I’m afraid. I made your Taxxon friends eat them all, one by one.>

Alloran’s eyes narrowed and his tail rose almost imperceptibly.

<There will always be others. New warriors who see you are cruel and hateful will turn their tail blades against you. The Yeerks, the Hork-Bajir, and the Graffen will never stop fighting.>

<And they will all die to my warriors. You are a fool Alloran, because you fight for the weak, which is why you will always lose! These humans, for example, so stupid and pitiful, they haven’t even stopped killing each other for longer than a cycle! Why would you pity something that can’t even fight on its own? Even the abominable Taxxons are more useful as target practice! They do not deserve to exist in this universe, a blight upon a perfect planet!”

<You forgot something though Elfangor, you arrogant _straken_.>

Elfangor stepped closer, tail cocked.

<Oh? And what is that?>

<Taxxons are dammed good shots. Xiphili, fire!>

The cannons of the Blade Ship blazed to life and the Andalites scattered. The cannons roared as beams of bright red light sizzled through the air. One of the Andalite fighters disintegrated under the onslaught of bolts. Even crouched in the dirt, I could feel the heat of the beams on my face. There was a harsh mental cry as one of the warriors was hit and disintegrated as well.

<FIRE!> howled Elfangor. <Burn his ship!>

The night exploded into blinding light as the Andalites returned fire with glowing blue beams. The Blade Ship glowed cherry red and, with a strange slowness, disintegrated into a red pool of molten metal.

Elfangor stalked forward, passing through the reforming circle of Andalites until he stepped right up to Alloran. Esplin was still feeding us warmth, but I could feel their fear. They stood up, all four stalk eyes looking at Elfangor. If they were going to die, they would do it on their feet, looking their enemy in the face.

But Elfangor wasn’t done gloating. <Rest assured Alloran,> he growled. <When we reach the Yeerk homeworld, when we glass it into a charred rock, I will personally find the Sulp Niar pool, the Corass Pool, and the Gaftrok Pool, and I will personally devour every single one of your old friends. I hope they have hosts, just so I can hear them scream.>

Alloran struck!

His tailblade whipped forward blindingly fast and Elfangor’s arm went spinning up into the night sky. Blue blood sprayed from the wound

I grinned and saw Rachel make a fist pumping gesture.

<Aahhhrrgggh!> Elfangor howled.

Alloran’s hands disappeared into the black bag and returned holding two gleaming pistols. And then, as the Andalite warriors closed in, he really began to fight.

Ch 6

I’ve seen battles across seven planets, involving dozens of species and weapons exotic and simple. I’ve seen beyond space and time itself, into the very fabric of the universe. I’ve seen my own death, twice. But War-Prince Alloran’s last stand with Esplin 9466 will remain in my mind forever.

His tailblade was a hurricane of death, removing limbs, bisecting torsos, slicing heads and eyestalks like a farmer slicing fruit off a tree. Effortless. And wherever his hands pointed, so too did death follow. They moved and targeted independently, one eyestalk for each arm, as he charged straight for the retreating Elfangor.

But it wasn’t enough. A blue beam carved through his back legs, severing the right one at the joint. Another hit him in the chest, making him stumble and drop a gun. A tailblade made sure his hand followed soon after. I could hear Esplin’s shout of defiance in my mind, wordless and full of anger.

In the flashes of light, though, Marco saw something. Human figures, crouched at the door to the Andalite fighter. He shoved me and pointed.

“Look! People?”

I could barely look away. “Are they prisoners?”

Marco shrugged, his gaze full of terror and despair.

Alloran was finished. If his wound hadn’t been mortal before, there were four more on his body that certainly qualified. But he still glared up at Elfangor, surrounded by Andalites nursing wounds or missing limbs. They pointed their guns at Alloran but knew better than to kill him.

That was Elfangor’s privilege.

Then we saw why the Andalites had been winning the war, how they could hold dozens of species under their rule unopposed. Before our eyes, Elfangor began to morph.

His head bulged and grew, splitting in half as jagged white horns grew from inside of it. The four deer legs thickened into massive orange scaled claws that cracked the concrete beneath their feet. His neck began to split and sprout like some bizarre plant, budding globes of flesh sprouting as we watched in horror. I was wrong. The white objects were not horns, but teeth. This eight-headed monster stood in Elfangor’s place, grinning horribly at Alloran. It breathed experimentally and something white and blindingly bright sparked out from between its massive teeth.

Elfangor had become something beyond my darkest nightmares.

Three clawed arms reached forward and grabbed Alloran by the throat.

Cassie was praying, muttering something so fast and so quietly the words were indistinguishable.

“Don’t look.” Rachel said to her. She tucked Cassie’s face into the crook of her shoulder and held it there, tears streaming down her face. Then she reached out and took Tobias’s hand. They say you never really know someone until you see them scared to death, and even then, as we crouched in mute terror in the dirt, Rachel still had some strength to spare.

The monster Elfangor had become pulled Alloran high into the air, ignoring his struggles. One bleeding stump beat feebly against the claw around his neck.

Elfangor held him high in the air and opened his mouth wide.

Ch 7

I expected him to be eaten, to be swallowed and devoured by that beast from beyond the stars. God, I wish he had.

Elfangor’s Beast opened its mouth wide out came a flame. Not any flame I’ve ever seen, but a blinding white flame that dripped over the Beast’s jaws and pooled around its feet, hissing and smoking.

And Alloran burned. He burned and he screamed and he died. Only at the very end did he cry out. His cry of despair was in our heads. His cry will always be in our heads.

Tobias was staring blankly at the scene, eyes wide and tear streaks running down his face. Marco looked away. 

I saw something black and smoking on the ground. I looked blankly before I realized what it was. A piece of Alloran’s flesh had fallen off of him. He might not have even been dead when it happened.

Elfangor slowly regained his own form and moved his regrown arm around experimentally. <Ah,> I heard him say dimly, <Nothing like a well cooked traitor. Freshly done.>

The Andalites began to laugh, and so did the humans on the ship, who I still couldn’t see. Marco, meanwhile, began to throw up. It was understandable. I was feeling sick myself. But the sound caught the attention of one of the Andalite warriors, who turned in our direction and hoisted his weapon.

I don’t know if it was the weapon, the movement, or the glare in his eyes, but we’d all had enough. We ran.


	2. The Vissering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Animorphs attend an unusual post-war celebration off planet and get a bit more than they bargained for.

It had no official name, because officially, it didn’t exist. Those who attended it called it “a meeting” or “an important appointment”. Sub-Visser 43, who dubbed it “The Vissering” was removed from his Hork-Bajir host, placed within a sealed jar and launched deep into unpopulated space. It was, and still is the most heavily-armed social event in the nearest 100 light-years and as a result is also one of the most relaxing.

When you have at least twelve orbital bombardments primed on the planet at any given time, there develops an almost casual attitude towards death that allows the Vissers and their guests to completely relax. Of course, Eva decided that it was the perfect place to bring the Animorphs.

She and Visser One had visited Xelcon several times in the past, seeking new hosts for the Empire, only to discover that the planet’s crystalline inhabitants were impossible to infest, unfailingly polite, and possessed a planet with astonishing natural beauty. So they left it alone, sending an emissary every once in a while to remind the Xelconians that the Yeerks were out there and they would greatly appreciate any financial or technological donations.

Eva had been enthralled by the planet, with its massive crystalline structures, clear turquoise oceans and fascinating inhabitants. She had suggested that Visser One create a hideout there, purely for self-preservation. Obviously. The pool, luxurious furniture, and well-stocked bar were purely accidental. Visser One had dragged a recalcitrant Visser 15 to Xelcon to persuade him that backing her against Visser Three’s latest idiotic scheme involving some kind of Anti-Morphing Ray. He too, had been won over by the Xelconians, and it was he who first suggested the idea of “The Vissering”. A neutral meeting place for all the Empire’s Generals to relax and be themselves without the subterfuge, violence, and bargaining such meetings usually entailed.

A few Xelconians who were particularly business-minded began setting up trade routes, collecting rare refreshments and exotic spices. Thus did the First Vissering begin, with a small contingent of Vissers, only five or six. Soon it swelled to all fifty, with rumors that The Emperor occasionally sneaked in, alerted by one Loyalist or another. All in all, a very high-profile gathering.

After the war, the house on Xelcon sat unused for a year or three. Eva finally got to spend time with her family and the rest of the Vissers were busy either fleeing into interstellar space, surrendering, or attempting to politically maneuver under the new Yeerk government. The heavy Andalite sanctions on travel and ex-Visser activity didn’t help either.

But the lure of old friends, older enemies and free drinks brought most of them back eventually. Visser 35 was the spearhead of the entire movement due to his great love of entertainment and pride in the achivements of the Yeerk race. He was what might be called a nationalist or a speciesist, though xenolinguistic studies on Earth hadn’t quite got around to forming such a term yet. He loved his people and wished to see them thrive, regardless of what forms they stole, borrowed, or built for themselves.

He went to the new Council of Thirteen and the Emperor hidden amongst them, and asked for support. He got it, under the condition that the Council be allowed to attend. The same approach also worked with the Andalite Councils, though it took six months of begging, wheedling, and cajoling longer.

So when Eva received the clean white card in the mail one day, she nearly had a heart attack of pure joy. The Vissering was one of the few things Visser One had indulged in and was one of the rare times when Eva had been happy during her enslavement. The small addendum stating that the firepower above the world had been doubled was skimmed then dismissed as irrelevant. She went down the list of the numerous Vissers she knew to be alive and within regional space and her smile impossibly seemed to widen each minute until it was blinding and terrifying to look upon. It was the same look Marco had before he pulled a particularly devious prank or had sent Visser Three running in defeat.

Othela 445 with her cool collected demeanor. Sempat 2577 and his blustering, hilarious war stories. Pesquin 9238 and their love of xenobiology. Karkat 2424 and his apoplectic rage. She almost looked forward to seeing them all again, as preposterous as that sounded. And the Animorphs would absolutely love this.

Of course, Eva said nothing to the Animorphs about the true nature of The Vissering. She merely described it as “an informal gathering of a few old friends you might want to meet” and refused to elaborate. When Aximilli and Jake became suspicious, she added that all the other Animorphs besides themselves had agreed to come. Once the sentence had left her mouth, she knew they would fall into line. Jake would come with to protect his team and Ax would come to protect his friends and his shorm. The others came due to a combined mix of curiosity, boredom, and obligation. All Eva cared about was getting a picture of their faces when they met the assembled Vissers.

The Animorphs assembled at their house in California, far away from the prying eyes of the press. They all had packed overnight bags, though Cassie had to explain to Ax what an overnight bag was, and how to pack it. Rachel had in fact brought a small suitcase, clearly labeled: RACHEL’S SUITCASE in thick Sharpie lettering on the label.

Eva and her pilot, an old friend named Wyburn (formerly Pilot Tolstat 657) touched town their small transport craft in the substantial front yard, causing the Animorphs to step back or shield their eyes as the jets settled the craft into a landing.

As she shepherded the Animorphs into the craft Eva had a brief flashback of taking Jake and Marco to the playground as young children. (God they were still so young) This had the same sense of excitement, the frantic last minute dash to grab a forgotten item, (Cassie’s hairbrush) and the bustling sense of adventure that made everyone smile, or at least relax a little.

Jake was sitting by one of the windows, wedged in next to Cassie and Marco and Eva did a double take. He was grinning! The grim child-general she’d seen and encouraged during the final weeks of the Yeerk War had been pushed to the side. For a moment, Jake Berenson and his friends could’ve been any other group of teenagers off on a road trip. The red-tailed hawk and the Andalite in the space behind the three humans shattered the illusion, but it was worth it. No matter how strange and scary the world had become, Eva was just glad there were some things that remained sane and normal.

The flight through Z-Space was fortunately short, a mere few hours and when the Animorph’s ship burst through into reality once more, Eva had her camera ready. Xelcon was magnificent, the blue waters and verdant coastlines visible from orbit. But it was the twenty-four battlecruisers parked over the planet that perhaps made the most impression.

Cassie, Rachel, and Marco’s mouths were hanging open in wonder and astonishment, Jake’s eyebrows were practically in his hair, and Ax had swiveled all four of his eyes forward and had nearly caused them to pop out of their sockets.

*CLICK* went the camera.

As Jake and Rachel turned their wrathful gazes upon her, Eva shoved the camera into her purse, where it was safe from questing fingers. Their initial questions were halted by the fact that their host was still grinning broadly.

Wyburn set their course for the docking station on Visser 35’s new landing pad. No longer allotted their Blade Ships and dispossessed of the vast majority of their armaments, the yeerk leaders instead arrived in a multitude of crafts as unique and colorful as the Vissers that captained them. Visser 35 had commandeered a large boxy transport craft and had painted it all manner of garish and bright colors. This meeting had been carefully calculated by Eva and the Visser, who acknowledged the importance the Animorph’s visit could hold. A positive experience here could help redefine the terms of Yeerk-Human relations and begin the long slow process of reparations between the two species.

So of course, the entire process began in as ridiculous a manner as possible.

Because the Vissers now inhabited a wide variety of species, everyone had to strip and be blasted with various decontamination fluids, gases, and x-rays. Eva had been through the experience before, so she just gritted her teeth. Besides, the kids’s screams of surprise were worth it.

After getting dressed again they ventured out into the antechamber of the party and were immediately assaulted by partygoers. Eva was used to the general meele of the Vissering and so visciously batted or punched away some of the more enthusiastic partygoers until the remaining dignitaries decided to simply form a queue. She’d noticed that the Animorphs had formed a circle and several of them had already started to morph.

“It’s okay!” she bellowed over the roar of conversation. “Everybody back off, you’re freaking out our guests!” The Vissers backed off, some of the more militant ones looking decidedly unfriendly.

Fortunately, the situation was salvaged by Visser 35, who appeared in his Hork-Bajir host Gelthim Karp. He’d festooned himself in bright blue and yellow ribbons to celebrate the peace treaty and had even taken the precaution (with Gelthim’s permission) of filing down his blades. The Animorphs were astonished to see a brightly colored Hork-Bajir barrel out of the incomprehensible crowd of aliens and wrap Eva in a bear hug.

“EVA!” He cackled, “It’s been too long, I thought the Andalite Bandits had stolen your craft.” Eva grinned and hugged him back. “It’s the only way I’d ever miss this meeting Toloss. And how are you Gelthim?”

The Hork-Bajir nodded. “Been very busy Eva. Many things to do with Toloss, but better tree bark lately.” Eva turned to the Animorphs who were looking at her with a mixture of apprehension, fear, and betrayal. She took a deep breath. “Jake, Cassie, Marco, I’d like to welcome you all to Xelcon, the largest gathering of Vissers the galaxy has ever seen.”

Fortunately nobody had morphed and nothing had exploded, so Eva and Toloss thought things were going pretty well. They’d made some brief introductions, paired off Animorphs with interesting or like-minded Vissers, and stepped back to watch the show, or work damage control, as each case demanded. The Animorphs stuck together in pairs, wary of being separated and picked off, but gradually, over the course of an hour and several brightly colored party drinks, they relaxed. The gunsmith Visser 22’s eager explanation of the orbital arsenal pointed at them made Cassie’s eyes widen and nearly caused Jake to have a panic attack, but Toloss had handed Jake a calming extract of the Behilit vine and told him to go talk to Sempat 2577.

Jake obediently slunk off towards the bar with Marco, where Sempat was busy explaining his exploration of the 542nd quadrant to a suffering Andalite Ambassador. “And then they made me their chief.” The human-Controller saw Jake coming, and waved a hand in welcoming. “Welcome friends! Tell me Ambassador, are these really the Andalite Bandits I’ve heard so much about? They gave old Esplin a real run for his money, didn’t they?”

The Andalite narrowed his eyes at Jake in recognition.

The Visser chuckled. “Well that’s even better!” He turned to Jake, who had reluctantly perched on a bar stool and was perusing the drink menu. “Tell me, Human Bandit, was it true you covered Iniss in skunk spray and dipped him in grape juice?” Jake raised an eyebrow while Marco chuckled at the memory. “How did you know about that?” The Visser waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, it was all over the extranet, courtesy of Edriss.” He shook his head in admiration. “that Yeerk was something else.”

Marco glared at the Visser. “That Yeerk enslaved my mother for years slug, so watch your mouth. And what about the guy you’re sitting in right now, huh? Does he have a say in anything?”

Sempat 2577 shook his head mournfully. “I’m afraid not. This poor fellow was shot in some Earth-related violence and it scrambled his brain terribly. Not much of the original inhabitant left, but his noggin was so difficult to control, no other Yeerk wanted it. I requested his body specifically.”

“And why the hell was that?”

Sempat shrugged. “I liked the challenge. It’s what I do. It forces me to ‘think on my feet’ as you humans say. I rewire pathways, correct neurons, and monitor wellbeing all while I’m talking to you.” The Visser grinned and drained his glass of a dark amber liquid. “It’s all part of my job.”

“And what was your job, exactly?” Jake glanced away from the menu and shot Marco a Look. The Look said: stop being so combative, I don’t want to get shot. Marco glared right back, but the Visser unfortunately caught the exchange.

“Oh please, Human-Bandits, don’t fight on my account. The war’s over, after all. We’re here to celebrate!” he paused, thinking. “Well, I can’t keep calling you Human-Bandits all the time. Do you have names?”

“I’m Jake and the grouchy one is Marco, Yeerk.”

To Jake’s surprise, the Visser shook his hand enthusiastically. “Very well then Jake, allow me to make a few recommendations before you order.” He sighed fondly. “Xelcom has a very diverse menu, but you need to watch what you eat. Several Vissers have poisoned themselves by eating the wrong type of food.”

Jake’s eyes widened and he scanned the menu more cautiously.

“I’d recommend the roasted Holvriss steak and ceartinly the Lagnese salad.” Sempat winked conspiratorially. “I was the first one to explore the Holvriss system, and let me tell you, it was a sight for sore eyes. We’d been scouring barren asteroid fields for three standard weeks and nothing. Not a speck of life. Then we wake up one morning to the scanners on the Blade Ship going crazy. Holyriss was absolutely packed with lifeforms!”

They leaned a little closer as Sempat began to draw them in. The Yeerk was an excellent storyteller, his enthusiasm for exploration shining through.

“Of course we see these massive six-legged beasts, and what do we do?”

Marco grinned. “You tried to ride them, didn’t you?”

Sempat thumped the bar. “That’s exactly what we did.”

Even Jake was relaxed now, helped along by the steak that was indeed excellent, though purple meat took some getting used to.

“Sounds just like Marco.”

“You’ll both have to come with me on a safari some time, then. It’s not as fun as it used to be though.” Sempat pouted. “They make me drag all these stuffy Andalite soldiers and scientists around too, and they argue with my crew over everything. It was so much easier without the damm bureaucrats.” He shrugged. “Still, it’s a small price to pay for not having to worry about fighter patrols and all that nonsense.”

Along the side wall, Eva and Toloss grinned at each other. Things were going well there, at least.

Cassie was deeply engaged in a conversation with Pesquin 9238, the Yeerk Peace Movement’s off-world coordinator and newly minted member of the Council of Thirteen. According to Toloss’s rumor mill, and the whispering around the Pools, she might even be the new Empress. Needless to say, having her meet Cassie was one of the main goals they had been pushing towards. Unsurprisingly, the fervent xenobiologist and the daughter of two veterinarians had quite a bit in common.

Tobias and Ax were patiently listening to Visser 42 who had served briefly under Visser 3 before he fortunately escaped up the ranks of the Yeerk Hierarchy. He was famous (or infamous depending on who you spoke to) for being the Yeerk Empire’s top fighter pilot, leading his own squadron into heavy sorties and always returning alive. He’d even dueled Elfangor in a heated fleet engagement off of Sinatris and had come back in one piece. Having relinquished his Taxxon host to the wilds of Earth, the Visser now occupied an Andalite-built replica, which clicked and rumbled like a washing machine at regular intervals. The Andalites were still working out the kinks in the technology.

But it was this viscious dogfight over Sinastris that the Visser was describing to his two guests, with the aid of a markerboard one of the Xelconians had dragged out of storage. To Eva, who had only a rudimentary understanding of spaceflight, the diagram was incomprehensible, but Tobias’s eyes tracked the marker intently and their thoughtspeech had something of the academic quality in it. She focused to bring it to the forefront of her mind. Tobias was speaking.

The mechanical body writhed in disappointment, though it was hard to tell.

Aximilli spoke up.

The Visser clacked his claws at his guest.

Tobias’s voice had smugness written all over it.

The Visser turned to the markerboard and scribbled frantically.

Aximilli nodded.

Ax trotted in place, unwilling to concede the point.

While Aximilli nursed his wounded pride, the Visser circled his position on the board, clarifying the situation for Tobias.

If Tobias had a human face at that moment, he would’ve winced.

<Now, I crawled out of the wreckage, praying my stupid Taxxon mind wouldn’t decide to devour itself and I see your brother’s fighter hovering there. I was absolutely sure he was going to shoot me, but instead he just waggled his wings and flew back to the battle.>

He looked down.

<I’m still not sure if he was sparing me, or leaving me to die. Fairly certain it was the first one though.> The Visser put a claw on Ax’s shoulder. <Your brother was hands down the best fighter pilot in the whole war and a good Andalite too. It’s a damm shame he died the way he did.> The Visser looked morose. <A pilot should always die in the air, that’s what I think.>

Ax’s stalk eyes stared at the mechanical claw on his shoulder but he did not move it. There was a brief silence in the crowd, broken only when one of the crystalline Xelconians approached them with a platter of refreshments. They’d even managed to get some Andalite grass. Ax wondered how that trade had gone down.

Eva and Toloss moved on through the party, passing the dias with ascending levels of volatile drugs, co-opted by Visser 39 and two Andalite Councilmembers. Toloss dispatched two of the Xelcronians to break up a potentially ugly domestic dispute between the co-habitating Vissers 13,14, and their host Justin Cambrot. Even though there was only one body involved it was best to keep things low-key.

She saw Rachel Berenson’s dolphin morph swimming about near the beach outside to the cheers and roars of a few onlookers while Karkat 2424’s amorphous jellyfish host attempted to outdo her in some nebulous aquatic competition.

Grinning from ear to ear, Eva strolled, slid, and pushed her way back through the crowd to see Toloss waiting at the foot of the stairs, still covered in ribbons. He climbed upwards and she followed him towards her favorite room in the house.

Though technically a combination bedroom, bathroom, and erotic spa, what made the second floor of this house so special to Eva were two things: the wall-to wall windows looking out on the Xelconian sunset and the equally transparent floor. Looking down, one could see dozens of species and ostensibly their Yeerks, chatting, drinking, shouting, and laying down the bonds and rivalries that would define the year or so until the next gathering.

Toloss lay back in his chair, wrapping his fingers into the soft armrests while Eva poured out her glass of wine from the table between them. She took a sip and blinked in surprise. “A 1967 Beaujolais Nouveau? Toloth, you shouldn’t have.”

“It’s only thanks to you that this is going as well as it is. With the Animorphs here, they’ll be a little more inclined to see my people as individuals and allies, not monsters to be destroyed.” He frowned. “Jake Berenson in particular worries me. Everyone’s going to want something from him, and he’s not used to these kind of games like we are.” He looked at Eva and added, “Well, I am. You were Edriss’s unwilling participant for all those years, my mistake.”

He shook his horned head. “After all these years, you still have the same fire in your eyes.”

Eva sipped her wine. “It’s why I’m still here.”

Toloss shook his head in dismissal. “Bah. Look at us, sitting here and moping about like a couple of old fools. The war is over, and now we can all start again. How about a toast?”

Eva nodded. “How about we toast the peace then, since you’re so fond of it.”

“That would be a grand choice.” He raised a slab of tree bark. “To peace!”

Eva tapped her glass against his. “To peace.”

The next morning the Animorphs staggered out towards the spaceport in a state of absolute exhaustion. Three orbital strikes had been called in, two had been canceled, and one had been intercepted by a strike team of three Vissers and Jake Berenson. The partying Vissers simply hadn’t noticed.

Rachel and Karkat 2424 had challenged each other to a formal duel with low-powered Dracon pistols and had only succeeded in turning several meters of sand into glass, so poor was their aim. Cassie had fallen asleep and been doodled on by a drunk member of the Council of Thirteen, as had her conversational partner Pesquin. Marco had bought a small planetoid by charging Vissers to watch him morph different Earth animals. Aximilli had ventured onto the recreational drugs and had barely recovered. Tobias was molting, and one of the Andalite Councilmembers had ben caught in coitus with one of the members of the Council of Thirteen.

Their pilot Wyburn glanced up from his newspaper in surprise as they shuffled into their ship. Eva was chuckling and looked like she’d had the best sleep in months.

“So, how was the party?”

Eva winked and passed Wyburn a cup of coffee. “Just like last year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought the Vissers of the Yeerk Empire were a fascinating point that could have been discussed more in the series. Most would've been military leaders or general-equivalents, but the broad spectrum of possibilities would have undermined the monolithic threat of the Yeerk Empire. So here's a party fic that allowed me to play around with the Vissers and how many interact, friendly and otherwise.


	3. Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and Tobias try to make things work.

Rachel had long ago realized that she wouldn’t ever live a normal life. She kept up the illusion of hope of course. She kept it up so long it might have even begun to turn into real hope. That she and Tobias and Jake, all of her friends would survive this war. That everything would be okay. She let go of that dream when she heard David’s screams echoing off of that grey rock in the sea and she felt as if a part of her was trapped there too. 

So Rachel fell headlong into the war, a massive black pit that spread and ate away at her sense of self until she didn’t even have the strength to scream. She would hold Tobias’s head in her arms and press his face to her chest as heaving sobs wracked he body, as she tried to escape the truth everyone had realized by now, that they were all killers, that there was no going back.

That made it a little easier sometimes. When she brought the rock down on David’s little rat head, when she boarded Tom’s Blade Ship, she knew there was nothing of the old Rachel left, no matter how much she would wish otherwise. 

But there, on the bridge of the Blade Ship, looking at Tobias’s tear-stained human face, Rachel Berenson found that she still very much wanted to live. She still had hope. So when a polar bear brought his claws down, Rachel was no longer there. A roll, then a handspring, brought her out of range, even as her form rippled and grew. If she’d thought earlier was the fastest she’d ever morphed, this last effort beat it by a mile. Soon the grizzly had returned, her ever-faithful battle morph.

Rachel Berenson survived the war. It wasn’t easy, by any means, and the Animorphs struggled on for more than ten years in that big house in California, trying to understand, to forget, or to remember.

Rachel and Tobias break up. It wasn’t completely unexpected, because they both want different things, but they aren’t sure what. Cassie privately thinks neither of them really know what they want, but she stays quiet as Rachel sobs into her shoulder because her friends need to work out their own problems. 

Tobias goes to a college out in the Midwest because he needs time on his own. His dorm is almost spotless and his roommate rarely sees him that first year. When he flies back to California for Thaanksgiving break all the Animorphs are waiting for him, even Rachel, though her smile is shaky, and her knuckles are white on the bowl of mashed potatoes. 

The day after Thanksgiving, Rachel guides Tobias onto the porch and they talk for hours, with pauses as he morphs and demorphs. They try again, and this time it’s much better. They manage to get all the way to the topic of sex before problems start again.

He keeps seeing Taylor’s face. He’ll be lying in bed, he’s relaxed, plenty of time in morph left, and he’ll look over and see her deranged, shrieking face, feel the electrical shocks spasm through his body again, and he screams. The first time it happens, it feels as if he’ll never stop screaming, that he’ll scream so long his vocal chords will tear themselves out of his throat from the sheer effort of it.

He flies out the window and leaves Rachel crying, confused, and terrified on the bedspread, with the other Animorphs bursting through the door.

Tobias goes to a psychiatrist, one Jake recommended. Very quiet, different from what he thought it was going to be. The doctor has an entire wall of windows, which she opens whenever Tobias has an appointment. The first session, Tobias says nothing, just sits and stares at the woman, with his hawk eyes and sharp talons on the hat rack. She says nothing, writes nothing down, just waits patiently. This annoys him. If she thinks to beat him in a waiting game, she’ll lose. He’s waited for hours to nab a raccoon or a rabbit from its burrow, he can wait out a human psychiatrist.

She is silent the second and third sessions too.

When Tobias finally starts talking, it’s about Ax. His storm, his uncle, one of the few good things in his life. Dr. DuMarier says it’s good for him to have someone like Ax in his life, that it’s important to find people to love and look up to.

He talks about Rachel for the fifth, sixth, and seventh sessions, mixing little stories about how the sun reflected off her hair with brutal accounts of dismemberment and beak-to blade combat. He talks about the war in those sessions too. He can’t get away from it, it’s this monstrous thing, originally his glorious cause, and it has taken his entire life and reshaped it at such a fundamental level that he still has trouble taking all of it in. His face, human and hawk, on the evening news, Marco working on advertising deals, a spaceship parked above the Capitol Building, all of it.

Occasionally he morphs human just to let the tears and the rage out, because it’s all stuffed up inside him, and it needs to be let out. Dr. DuMarier remains calm the entire time. She shows no sympathy, for he does not need sympathy, he has had enough damm sympathy, he can’t stand sympathy any more than pity or praise.

He smashes the Doctor’s office, his Hork-Bajir morph throwing tables and chairs, but her face doesn’t change expression at all. she just covers her face from the flying glass and says nothing. That day, Tobias leaves through the broken window.

He almost doesn’t return, but he knows the others are happy he’s trying, he knows Ax will be disappointed but say nothing, the silence will be more than he can bear. He’s lived his whole life with silence.

So he swoops in the window and almost falls off the hat rack in shock. The room is still in pieces and only the window, the hat rack, and the doctor’s chair is untouched. The doctor is sitting in her chair, waiting as patiently as the first day he flew into her office. She is unafraid.

So with nothing else, Tobias talks. He talks about finding out Elfangor, the dying Andalite from so long ago was his father. How he couldn’t even bring himself to cry because he knew it would mean his death.

He admits in halting, shaky thought speech what happened in Taylor’s cage. How he’s afraid of her even after all this time, how he hates himself that he can’t get over this, that he made Rachel cry. He hates himself and how he’s a broken person and nothing has ever gone right for him. 

The doctor stands for the first time and holds out her hand to where he is crouched on the floor. He looks up at her, teary-eyed, and takes it. She smiles, showing no teeth, a gentle smile.

“You’ve had a hard life Tobias. But you still have the ability to trust. You have not given up on Rachel and she hasn’t given up on you.”

Tobias stands up, his face a mask of determination. He nods once, demorphs, and flies out the window. Dr. DuMarier knows she will never see him again. She has done her job.

She closes her eyes and listens to the silence, the whistling noise of the wind, imagines how long Tobias was surrounded by it. Dr. DuMarier sweeps aside the remaining broken glass and sets the lamp in its upright position, it’s the least she can do for now. She opens the door to her waiting room to find her next client is early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello yes, even my Rachel Lives fics are heartbreaking and depressing.


	4. The Ascension of Rachel Berenson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deeply stupid crossover with Warhammer 40,000 in which Rachel makes a slightly different choice to survive. It's fine.

She’s dying. She can feel her bear’s life blood leaking out onto the cold sterile deck of the Pool Ship. The view screen above her is screaming in Tobias’s voice, but the words are blurred together and far away. She spits out the body of the snake that had once been Tom, Jake’s brother, her cousin as the enemy looms over her.

She won’t have time to morph back, to heal her wounds, to escape. The Yeerk in front of her has morphed into a polar bear, the white hide apparent even to her weak grizzly eyes, which are now beginning to dim. She moves to rise, and feels her body slump back down. Blood loss, wounded tendons, broken ribs, and a few ruptured organs. Individually, none of these had stopped her before, but all together, they spelled her end. A part of her was affronted, ignoring the looming danger, the weakness, the pain. Rachel Berenson did not end. She would survive.

The coppery taste of blood in her mouth, so familiar, so disgusting, suddenly felt right. Words came unbidden into her mind, and as she demorphed, she screamed them as loud as she could in defiance, in the sheer inability to accept her own death, in the hatred of her enemies, in the raw will to survive.

**BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!**

The red ichor stirred around her, as she stood on the deck naked and unarmed before the polar bear. Its claws could tear her in half, but her fear was long gone now. Her lips formed the syllables again, one blood-soaked broken girl against an alien technology, an alien ship, an alien adversary.

Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!

**BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!**

At the third call, the blood coating the deck exploded upward, swirling around her, upon her, within her. Rachel Berenson had called, and Khorne had answered.

The polar bear struck at the tornado of blood, muscles rippling with raw power, only for it to howl in pain. Its arm had been sheared off from the force of the impact with whatever surrounded the girl it had been about to kill. It backed up, the Yeerk within confused and afraid.

Within the cloud, something smiled with sharp teeth.

“Let’s try this again.”

A smooth, muscled arm lashed out from the dark and speared the bear clean through, holding its beating heart within its clawed hands. Rachel Berenson, Demon Princess of Khorne, rose from the waters of her rebirth and bit deep into the flesh of her enemy.

Her skin was now a rich wine dark red, her claws as sharp as the eagle she had once used to fly. Every step shook the deck plating, and her grin was as wide and as sharp as the sharks they had acquired long ago. And her wings, bat-like as they were, remained folded behind her.

She gestured at the carcass of her slain foe, and it detonated in an explosion of gore. From the remains, she pulled an axe, the herald of her office, forged from the bones and skull of the bear, her first kill, the progenitor of her apotheosis.

“Now THIS is more like it!”

Rachel stalked towards the door of the bridge. There would be other crew members, other skulls, more opportunities for slaughter, and the screams and pleading of her friends was a distant noise behind her.

Rachel Berenson walked off the bridge of the Blade Ship and into destiny. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just want to write weird crossovers. Actually that's most of what I do.


	5. Together, (Polymorphs AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morphing allows one to get creative in the bedroom. Rachel and Tobias take full advantage of it to play their little game.

Rachel strode into the bedroom in Hork-Bajir morph. She felt on top of the world today. She’d just sent Marco rolling down the stairs in a combination of light pain and ecstasy and made him promise to not come upstairs until she had called him. She was pretty sure he’d obey, but Marco had a tendency to disobey her orders. That’s why she enjoyed him. They tested each other and it made it so much better to break his will down every time. She grinned.

Tobias was tied face down to the bed, the result of some earlier fun with Ax and Cassie. The sweat running down his back dripped intoxicatingly off onto the sheets and onto other, more tantalizing places.

She shook her horned head dismissively. She had a responsibility to take care of Tobias just as he, Marco and, to a lesser degree, Ax had a responsibility to pleasure her.

She strode up towards the head of the bed and put one long, clawed foot on top of Tobias’ stomach. He looked up in surprise, but she quickly shoved his head back down., but not before she caught a glimpse of his tentative smile, not quite as rare these days, but still precious. She ran a rough green tongue up his neck and he shivered. This was going to take some work, but the results would be worth it.

<Tobias Fangor.> she whispered in a low, hissing version of her normal thoughtspeak. <Are you ready?>

He nodded. “Yes Rachel.”

She frowned in mock anger, pressing down with her foot, driving him into the sheets. <Yes, **what?** >

Tobias lets out a little squeak that even now makes Rachel light up inside, like his voice is now the key to the universe. But not yet. His next words will start the game.

“Yes Mistress Rachel.” He corrects meekly.

Rachel’s beaked mouth curls in a parody of a grin. <Then let’s get started.>

There’s a breathless moment before the curtain lifts, before they are committed, a profound silence within the upstairs room. Then the noises begin. The little gasps of surprise, the moans of pleasure, the unfamiliar chittering of Hork-Bajir arousal.

There was something dangerously erotic about the arm blades that they had both seen used to kill, to maim, instead being used for play. The razor edge passing softly down his back, felt as gentle and intimate as anything else Rachel had done with him. The long rough tongue that slithered around his own, curling around and sideways, then _down,_ as it trailed across his back, tracing over the lines the blades had made, little scratches, barely even breaking the skin.

Tobias pulled at the ties binding him to the bed, knowing it was useless. His need, his hunger for pleasure, the siren call of the orgasm was calling, but it was Rachel who was in command right now. Tobias knew nothing in this room would happen without Rachel allowing it, so he gritted his teeth and simply begged.

Rachel, of course, placed her clawed foot on his back, pressing Tobias and his now active erection deeper into the bed. <I’m not letting you off that easily Tobias.> she admonished, <I’m not sure that you _want_ it enough>

He rolls his eyes, but she retaliates by bringing her Hork-Bajir tail up and drawing it across his inner thigh, drawing a small hiss out of her lover.

Nothing permanent or especially painful, just enough to remind him who was in charge. Tobias nodded frantically, knowing how this part of the play was supposed to go. “What do I have to do to make you believe Mistress?”

Mistress Rachel winked. <Everything.>

She stalks forward, tail swinging behind her, and Tobias gulps as he notices how she swings her hips. Technically a hork-bajir shouldn’t be considered attractive to a human, let alone whatever combination of species he is, but at this point, he and Rachel just rolled with the punches. And besides this is Rachel, the warrior-queen, the girl who very nearly died to save her cousin, and he loves her so much he feels like his heart is going to break out of his chest. So he grins as Rachel nearly trips on the discarded clothing and glares at him.

Soon enough, she lowers herself over him, the heady scent of human and Hork-Bajir musk filling the air. There’s some jostling and muttered apologies as they struggle to position themselves. Rachel’s more concerned with not accidentally hurting Tobias, and he’s trying to make sure she won’t crush his pelvis. But soon enough they connect, find their synch and he slides inside.

They both gasp, Tobias’s frail human body bucking reflexively beneath her. She lowers her head on its long scaly neck to his, tongue tickling his ear.

<Tobias are you okay?>

There’s a pause as he mentally checks the feelings coming in from his body, no longer entirely unfamiliar to him. His cheeks burn a bright red and he grins wider.

“Never better.”

He punctuates this with a kiss, turning his head sideways to properly kiss Rachel’s otherwise fearsome Hork-Bajir visage. Tobias kisses clumsily, but with unmistakable passion, lips moving, tongue tentatively darting between his own lips before sliding back in. Rachel’s long Hork-Bajir tongue follows after him, the long roughness of its texture wrapping around his own and reaching further back, seeming to go on and on.

The kissing occupies all their attention for awhile, simply basking in each other’s presence, of being so close, so alive. Tobias can feel every indentation in Rachel’s scaly skin as it touches his own, as his arms move away from the smooth scaled skin of her face to the rougher ones on her back, as he begins to rock his hips back and forth, wanting to feel every inch of her form, who and what she is.

Rachel makes a humming noise in her throat that travels through the kiss and into Tobias’s cheekbones. She’s enjoying the attention he’s giving her, the way his hands are rubbing circles just past her shoulders, avoiding the back blades. No matter what, he seems to think it’s a gift just to touch her.

They both have parts of themselves, dark stories they would rather forget, but they accepted long ago. Now the two lovers revel in the present moment as Rachel draws back from his embrace, savoring the string of saliva still connecting their mouths. She lets it hang there for a moment because, hey, it’s kinda sexy, before flicking her tongue out and breaking the link.

Tobias looks at her confused, before she grabs his hair and forces his head back down to the pillow.

<You slipped out of those restraints Bird-Boy! You took my place, took charge, and stole my opportunity to play with you!>

He closes his eyes in regret.

“Sorry Rachel.”

She shakes her head regretfully. <No, you’re not sorry.>

She pauses for effect, letting the sentence run through his mind before a grin crosses her beaked face. <Not yet.>

There’s a creaking from the bedsprings as she pulls herself off him and steps off onto the floor. His face shows dismay and Rachel forces herself to ignore it as she walks toward the bedroom door, still sticky and heated from both of their fluids.

“No, Rachel wait! Please, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not listeniiing!” she sings out, though in this form it’s more of a gravely buzz.

Tobias huffs in irritation, but he knows he’s made a mistake. He usually does and teasing him occasionally is half the fun of fucking her boyfriend in the first place. Rachel’s not cruel; she just wants him to say he’s hers. His voice is contrite, pleading to her ears. “I’m sorry Mistress. Please come back.”

She saunters back across the space between them, her own heavy footsteps emphasizing the decision all on their own. She bends down across the few feet separating them and traces one clawed hand over his stomach, making swirling patterns in his hair and skin as her boyfriend shivers.

Rachel is fighting not to laugh, but she wants to hear him say it, needs to know he wants this as much as she does, no matter what form they’re in.

<I’m going to need a little more than that Bird-Boy!>

Tobias murmurs and rolls his eyes in embarrassment and possibly aggravation. They’ve played this game before too and every time he’s reluctant to be so brash, so openly vulgar. Tobias is still a gentle soul, even after everything they’ve been through.

His voice is low.

“I want you to fuck me.”

There’s a little more pressure on the claws, drawing red marks on her lover’s chest, gentle encouragement. She can tell it’s working as he draws a sharp breath. The heady smell of arousal, the lingering taste of her tongue on his, the deep need to feel her in his arms again, and finally the touch of her hands on his, all combine to override his uncertainty and embarrassment.

“Fine!” he shouts, “I want you to fuck me!”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Rachel pounces on him, grinding the rough texture of her skin up and down the front of his body. He groans with happiness as she moves her way down, past his nipples, surrounded by goosebumps, toying briefly with his navel and finally arriving at her prize.

Her tongue whips out and around him, still plenty wet from her earlier makeout session. He moans and twitches under Rachel, making her smile. Tobias was always cute, but when his face lit up, with his messy blonde hair lies strewn all around him, that is when she loves him the most.

Rachel allows her tongue to draw back into her mouth painfully, tantalizingly slowly. When she closes her mouth around him, Tobias writhes in the restraints, calling out her name.

“Rachel, you-mmmhmmm…”

Whatever he was about to say trails off into a gasp as she begins to work him around her mouth. He tastes slightly salty and bitter from their previous encounter and Rachel begins to regret her new choice of action. She should’ve started with the tongue and finished with the cuddling. But there will be time for that later.

She unwinds her tongue once more and begins flicking at him as a new wave of saltiness hits her taste buds. With a wet sucking sound, she releases him from her oral torture.

Fortunately, he wasn’t finished. That was just a preview, a tease his body indulged in. Rachel huffed once or twice, the Hork-Bajir version of laughter. She’s teased him long enough, and he’s really been a good sport. Time for Mistress Rachel to wrap up and bask in being just regular old Rachel once again.

Crawling back up the bed, the couple resumed their old position, Rachel on top, Tobias still attached to the bedposts. It was easer this time, at least. Tobias nuzzled the side of Rachel’s horned face with his own, slipping his arms out to hold her again.

“Practice makes perfect, right?”

Rachel glared, though there wasn’t really any venom in the look.

<Don’t push it, Bird-Boy. I can leave whenever I want.>

Tobias kissed her lightly, a quick caress with his lips.

“But you won’t.”

This time it was Rachel who rolled her eyes.

<I think we know each other too well.>

“Hmmm, not yet.”

They held each other close for a few moments, then Tobias resumed his earlier rhythm of rocking back and forth, the springs a constant counterparts to his movements. They squeaked in protest as Rachel joined in, the two lovers quickly synchronizing their movements. Soon it was simply a smooth collection of breathy noises and movement.

Her hands tangled tightly in his hair, his toes curling and uncurling as she rolls her hips forward. A stray arm blade knicks his shoulder and he winces, but neither of them stop. It’s minor and the storm is building.

Their movements become frantic, grasping, and there’s a shudder as the storm breaks upon them both. Tobias’s hands dig into Rachel’s sides as her beaked mouth closes on his wounded shoulder, a moment of completeness, where there is no human, hawk, or Hork-Bajir, just Rachel and Tobias, together in the throes of the orgasm.

Some time later, when Tobias has undone his restraints and Rachel has demorphed, they simply lie there in the contented silence. At least, until there is an ominous groan, accompanied by a CRACK and sagging. Their eyebrows rise simultaneously and Tobias stretches over to look past the sheets. He nods silently, confirming the unanswered question.

“Yup. We broke the bed again.”

There’s a moment of disbelieving silence, then laughter. Deep, full-bodied laughter shakes Rachel, and soon she’s laughing so hard her eyes are streaming tears. Tobias is laughing too and when Marco leaps the stairs and stares at the shambled wreckage the only thing he can do is laugh as well.

Later, they’ll need to shower, collect their clothes, and buy a new bed from an increasingly exasperated furniture store, but fore now there is laughter and safety in the California house under the stars. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mostly just wrote this for the challenge of writing porn. Turns out it's difficult.


	6. Entwine, Polymorphs AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morphing allows one to get creative in the bedroom. Sometimes things go wrong.

Rachel strode into the bedroom in Hork-Bajir morph. She felt on top of the world today. She’d just sent Marco rolling down the stairs in a combination of light pain and ecstasy and made him promise to not come upstairs until she had called him. She was pretty sure he’d obey, but Marco had a tendency to disobey her orders. That’s why she enjoyed him. They tested each other and it made it so much better to break his will down every time. She grinned.

Tobias was tied face down to the bed, the result of some earlier fun with Ax and Cassie. The sweat running down his back dripped intoxicatingly off onto the sheets and onto other, more tantalizing places.

She shook her horned head dismissively. She had a responsibility to take care of Tobias just as he, Marco and, to a lesser degree, Ax had a responsibility to pleasure her.

She strode up towards the head of the bed and put one long, clawed foot on top of Tobias’ back. He looked around in surprise, but she quickly shoved his head back down., but not before she caught a glimpse of his tentative smile, not quite as rare these days, but still precious. She ran a rough green tongue up his neck and he shivered. This was going to take some work, but the results would be worth it.

<Tobias Fangor.> she whispered in a low, hissing version of her normal thoughtspeak. <Are you ready?>

He nodded. “Yes Rachel.”

She frowned in mock anger, pressing down with her foot, driving him into the sheets. <Yes, **what?** >

Tobias lets out a little squeak that even now makes Rachel light up inside, like his voice is now the key to the universe. But not yet. His next words will start the game.

“Yes Mistress Rachel.” He corrects meekly.

Rachel’s beaked mouth curls in a parody of a grin. <Then let’s get started.>

There’s a breathless moment before the curtain lifts, before they are committed, a profound silence within the upstairs room. Then the noises begin. The little gasps of surprise, the moans of pleasure, the unfamiliar chittering of Hork-Bajir arousal.

There was something dangerously erotic about the arm blades that they had both seen used to kill, to maim, instead being used for play. The razor edge passing softly down his back, felt as gentle and intimate as anything else Rachel had done with him. The long rough tongue that slithered around his own, curling around and sideways, then _down,_ as it trailed across his back, tracing over the lines the blades had made, little scratches, barely even breaking the skin.

Tobias pulled at the ties binding him to the bed, knowing it was useless. His need, his hunger for pleasure, the siren call of the orgasm was calling, but it was Rachel who was in command right now. Tobias knew nothing in this room would happen without Rachel allowing it., so he gritted his teeth and simply begged.

Rachel, of course, placed her clawed foot on his back, pressing Tobias and his now active erection deeper into the bed. <I’m not letting you off that easily Tobias.> she admonished, <I’m not sure that you _want_ it enough>

That’s when it all went wrong. Tobias squirmed under her foot and she pressed down harder, to make sure he knew who was boss. But Rachel forgot, momentarily, that her foot was covered in sharp gripping claws. Her muscles tightened and ripped great bloody swathes out of Tobias’s back. Suddenly he wasn’t begging for release anymore. He was screaming a high, wordless scream that echoed throughout the house. Rachel was demorphing as fast as she could, blades and hardness and green skin shrinking to reveal the woman hidden within. She had to fight herself to not rush over even as the blades retracted.

The blades!

With a flash of insight, she reached out her still-amorphous arm and carved through the straps holding Tobias to the bed. Now, he thrashed wildly, wrapping himself in the bloody sheets, heedless of his injuries, while his scream went on and on.

Marco was there in an instant, grabbing Tobias’s head, forcing him to stare his dark-haired friend in the eye.

“Tobias, listen to me. You need to demorph.”

Tobias’s eyes were unfocused, his gaze clouded with fear. He made a guttural noise and tried to pull away, but Marco held firm.

“Tobias, buddy. Breath. Just breathe. You’re gonna be OK. Breathe.”

He repeated it over and over, like a mantra, a protective charm that would heal the damage and slowly it did.

Feather patterns emerged over the pale flesh, a harsh beak replaced his trembling mouth, unitl a red-tailed hawk sat sprawled in the middle of the bed, with Marco’s gaze still locked unblinkingly on those fierce orange eyes.

Rachel reached out, her vision blurry with tears. The sudden movement caused Tobias to whip his head around and in that wild, terrified second, he didn’t see Rachel. He saw Taylor.

<NO! NO no no nnonononnonono. GET AWAY!>

He flapped his wings wildly and jetted out of the open window, vanishing into a tiny silhouette in the sky.

Rachel didn’t move for a few moments, her arm still outstretched, then she dropped it to her side, useless.

Marco crossed the room and stood in front of her, a question in his eyes. She glared at him so fiercely that he reflexively stepped back. Her voice hitched. “Leave Marco.”

“But-“

She lashed out, striking him a full slap across the cheek.

“LEAVE!”

Marco scrambled out of the room on his hands and knees, not even bothering to try and get up.

Everything had gone wrong.

Just like the rest of their fucking lives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked at the previous fic and thought: "What if I'm a cruel and capricious writer?" and wrote from there.


	7. Turn and Turn Again: A Long View of the Yeerk War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War has an aftermath, and the history books get to have their say.

When the news first came out, when the Andalites landed on the Washington Mall, it was pandemonium in the press. They could tell this was BIG NEWS, the kind of story every press hound dreams about. If they pulled this off, it was a shot at the Pulitzer Prize.

As it turned out, they were both right and wrong. The Animorphs were big news, but they didn’t want to be. Six teenagers had fought a war in southern California, against aliens. They could turn into animals. There were slugs living in people’s heads, green goblins popping up on the news, and blue centaurs with death rays floating above in orbit. It was too much and at first, nobody knew what to make of it. 

A majority of news outlets erred on the side of hopeful caution, though a few squawked about “protecting our rights as an intelligent species”. Marco, Jake, and occasionally Cassie conducted most of the introductions. Marco handled the media, Cassie forged contacts among government and scientific groups, while Jake dealt with the military. 

For the first ten years, the predominant view on Earth was that the Animorphs were heroes, Christ-like child saviors of us all. Not a word was heard against them and the marketing schemes rolled on. TV shows, movies, books, everything. The Animorphs, long gone from the public scene, became Legends. With no human failures or faults to remind the public, they were built up into paragons of duty, strength, courage, gentleness, all the qualities humans love in their heroes. To quote Cassie Chamber’s diary: “Jake was some combination of General Patton, George Washington, and Batman. It was impossible to not be intimidated by that.”

The disillusionment came gradually. The Yeerks began to tell their side of the story, that of a brutal guerrilla campaign conducted against combatants and noncombatants alike. Civilian deaths, destruction of property, the bombing of the Pool, the Massacre of the 17,000, the sacrifice of the Auxiliaries. The Animorph’s families, lost as they were, had little sympathy for their absent children. Time does not heal all wounds.

Gradually, the story shifted. Over a period of five years, the public realized that the Yeerk War was not the smackdown of invading aliens they had thought it was. it wasn’t Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum in Independence Day. It had been a long, grinding, brutal war fought in secret and with a gradual lack of remorse. 

Then they returned. The unsanctioned, unknown mission aboard the Rachel had taken far longer than anyone in either the government or Andalite High Command had expected. The remaining Animorphs, filthy, beaten and bruised dragged themselves off a Kelbrid crystal shuttle. Tobias had abandoned his hawk form in favor of the sky blue fur and whiplike tail of an Andalite. His shorm, Aximili, had lost an eye stalk and carried many scars. Marco still smiled to the cameras, but now they could see how hollow it was. Jake had not returned. 

To this day, the Animorphs remain highly controversial historical figures, with advocates citing their defense of Earth, Earth’s introduction to the galaxy, and the freeing of Kelbrid Civilization among their highest achievements. Detractors point out the loss of life and illegality of many of their actions, as well as their illegal status as child soldiers. As of this writing, the Animorphs are scattered over several worlds, aiding peace talks, starting colonies, and providing assistance where needed. 


	8. The Road Stretches Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War is exhausting, what follows even more so. Over the years, the Animorphs become a pack of wandering mismatched animals, in search of what peace they can find. It is enough.

They all survived the war. All the Animorphs survived.

But none of them survived. Not a single one. Aximili and Cassie came the closest perhaps. Both served in their respective governments for a fairly long time. Three years for Ax, four for Cassie. 

Tobias and Rachel were the first. They simply vanished into the wilderness and no one ever saw them again. Jake followed them six months later, then Ax, finally Cassie. Marco took an even longer time to come up for air, a full six years after the Yeerk War.

It was Jake who came for him, a tiger curled up on his bed, lazy in his lethalness, a few more scars, slightly leaner, but it was still Jake’s tiger.

History does not know what passed between them, only that the visit happened, caught by a bug some tabloid reporter had placed illegally.

History was lucky, because that was all they were going to get out of the Animorphs.

They lived in the wilds, as _nothlits_. Eating when they had to, avoiding civilization, talking amongst themselves, surviving, avoiding, ignoring.

The first year was mostly silent, settling into their new lifestyle, trying to drown out the voices pleading or screaming in their minds or the blood and gristle on their hands.

The second year started slowly with the drip-drip-drip of melting ice and the rustle of wind off the Pacific. By this time they had moved North, into the uninhabited wilds of Canada and occasionally the lower US. As winter passed into spring, they began to talk, the harsh winter of their lives subsiding into the delicate joys of spring. They found much to laugh and love and cherish in that golden second year.

By the third year, Aximili had changed the most. He had shed his stolen fleece jacket for a thick downy coat of blue fur, strong, muscular arms, and a much more powerful tail-blade. If his own people saw him, he would’ve looked wild and powerful, like the ancient Andalites of the Ellimist’s time. But they did not see him, and so his transformation passed unmarked, save for a few choice comments among the Animorphs.

All of them had more scars. Tobias could feel his reactions stiffening slightly, the cartilage beginning to creep into his joints, but he said nothing. Instead, he filled the time by talking. The quiet, abused boy that he had once been, or the soldier he had tried to be, were replaced by a poet and lover of nature on par with Cassie. When Rachel’s grizzly eyes betrayed her, he would compensate, filling her mind with descriptions of wide valleys, clear lakes, snow-crested pines, the flittering movement of a butterfly. Rachel committed every line to memory.

The fourth year was the ugliest. The snow came early that year, food and game was scarcer, and a typhoon from the South Pacific swirled up the coast and smashed into Western Canada. The harsh conditions pressed on cracks that they had thought long mended. The Animorphs were wrong. Those cracks had merely been smoothed over, caulked up. They were not gone.

The shouting only rarely escalated to direct physical violence. They could no longer demorph and so resorted to spending their rage on the environment. Scientists would later find a wide swathe of forest obliterated far outside the typhoon’s path, huge gashes ripped in trunks, massive craters in the ground. Cassie and Jake both left the group, disappearing into the wilderness in different directions during a wild snowstorm. Marco proved once and for all that, yes, gorillas can cry.

The fifth year seemed to go on forever. Cassie and Jake remained missing and it nearly destroyed the others. They moved south, further than they ever had before, almost back to their old hometown. Marco made a few half-serious attempts to return to civilian life, but the others always managed to talk him back down. Animorphs stuck together after all. He was never seen and when things were said and done, he thanked his friends for stopping him.

Jake returned in the end of June, as Rachel, Ax, Tobias and Marco moved north. He spoke more freely now and a great weight seemed to have been lifted from his striped back. He bounded and gamboled ahead and behind and around, until Ax and Rachel admonished him for it. Even in exile, he had still been their leader, their guide. He offered a few scattered stories of his travels, the details slowly coming out. He had swam out to the island on a crazy insane hope. David had not been there and was in all probability long dead. Rachel bowed her furred head, but said nothing. The years had left her taciturn and patient, comfortable with the plodding patience of the grizzly, power held in check until it was needed. She still grieved in her own quiet way for David, her cross to bear as much as Jake’s or Cassie’s.

Cassie returned in the last week of August. Her fur was mangy and dotted with burrs. She had joined a wild wolf pack for a while, buried herself deep within the animal mind and had not surfaced for a long time. Her return signified a second spring for the Animorphs, though the temperature dropped as each day passed. None of them cared about the weather, so happy were they to be _complete_ and _whole_ once again. Throughout the winter, they talked. Huddled around a fire in one of their many temporary homes, a cave nestled in the Washington hills, they talked. 

It was like a dam breaking. While the recent years had been focused on survival, on beauty, on anger, the sixth year was void of distraction, free of avoidance. The Animorphs talked and shouted and sang and danced the year away. The truth destroyed and reforged and strengthened their bonds all over again. The Berensons used to be Jewish, Marco, Tobias and Ax had barely no knowledge of religion, and Cassie was a vague background Christian. It didn’t matter. All of them agreed the sixth year was a rebirth.

On January eighth of the seventh year since the Animorphs’ Banishment, Tobias died. He had dived to catch a rabbit, but age and a failing body took its toll. His head hit a rock and death was instantaneous. They grieved. 

The seventh year, their last, was an enigma. It could have been a slow decline as Animorph after Animorph fell to nature, to bad luck, to time. They had never expected to die old and in their beds, but each death was a shock.

They had attempted to return, a desperate measure, bounding cross-country to the nearest doctor, the nearest vet, the nearest _anything_ to save Cassie, bleeding internally due to a kick by a spry young buck. She died in surgery and Jake’s cry of agony and rage and despair could be heard for miles.

Aximili alone remained at the end of the seventh year. He returned to the Andalite Homeworld, shaved his fur, and removed his tailblade out of remorse. He carved it himself, writing their names slowly as he remembered.

The eight year passed and Aximili remembered. The tailblade was carved, but it was not enough. He took paper, pen, computer, and began writing. Tobias’ poems, Jake’s confessions, Cassie’s advice, Marco’s jokes, Rachel’s curses, everything. He wrote of the times they had all suffered, the times they had laughed in joy. Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill wrote for two straight years, then died as soon as he had finished his work. 

He had titled it “The Wanderings of the Animorphs”, but in truth it was much more than that. It was a recording of the Yeerk War in truth. Harsh, unforgiving stories by the six children who had fought in it. The Legend of the Animorphs was shattered. But it was not destroyed outright, that would not be true either. After all, they had done good things, worthy things. The Animorphs had fought to protect their home. There was no shame in that.

Aximili finished his book like so: 

_There were times in the forests that the silence grew and the War hung over us like a cloud of ithart, the pesky insects that plague unlucky fields after a rainstorm. But there were days when the birds chirped, the wind whispered in our ears and those days were good._

_Elfangor said long ago: Love the warrior, hate the war. I followed his instructions throughout my life but now the war does not seem so important. It lingers in my mind like an image from an old dream, a nightmare nearly forgotten. I see a clear forest path ahead of me, opening onto a fair green country and a swift sunrise. My friends are waiting, for the road stretches ahead and there is all the time in the world._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always enjoyed "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas", so this is a short piece in that spirit. IMO, nature is the best cathedral ever created, there's something very soothing in greenery, wild places, and untouched brooks.


	9. I'm not running.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Rachel have a conversation before they walk away from everything. What would it take for someone to walk away from all the comforts of civilization, and for others to follow them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are Rachel, regular text is Jake.

I'm not running from anything. Really I’m not. … Don’t give me that look. It’s just easier this way. No more flashbulbs, no more memorial services, no more public adulation. God, I hate that most of all. We aren’t proud of what we did. Saving the world was such a remote possibility, it never felt real. We did it all for selfish reasons I think, in the beginning. 

I fought to save my brother, Marco fought to save his Mom, Tobias fought to be included, to be part of something. Ax was bound by duty and by necessity. The only Andalite on a planet swarming with Yeerks, how could he not fight? I sometimes wonder how long he would’ve lasted on his own…

Well, we both know why _you_ fought. Yeah, we don’t need to talk about it. It’s over isn’t it? It’s all over. You were the first-well, no. Tobias counted as the first one of us to leave, right? He had a long head start.

_I left next._

Yeah, yeah you did. Just morphed grizzly, and walked off in the middle of a press conference near Yellowstone. Didn’t come back. Went and joined Tobias. Caused the rest of us a lot of worry.

_Not Cassie._

Yeah, not Cassie. She was always smarter than me. She understood, at least a little.

_She told you?_

Well, she talked about it a little bit. Pillow talk, and all that.

_So you finally did the deed? Married your sweetheart, the whole enchilada?_

Don’t mock me Rachel.

_I’m not!_

Are you sure?

…

_Okay, so I’m a little jealous I missed that. Oh the opportunities… I could have finally gotten our little farm girl to wear a proper dress for once. Marco would have been relentless as the best man. He was, wasn’t he?_

_…  
_ There was no wedding Rachel.

_You are shitting me. Responsible Jake Berenson, no wedding?_

She showed up at my house at 2 AM. Said she dreamed about crossing the Deleware.

_Oh._

I let her in, took the couch, gave her the bed. Things just sort of…happened.

_I guess they did. Heh. Remember when we were just five kids in a mall? Things just sort of happened then too._

_  
_That seems like a hundred years ago.

_it does, doesn’t it?_

There is a long silence in the woods.

_When is Cassie coming to join us?_

_  
_Tomorrow morning. She had gotten all involved with the Free-Hork Bajir, when she wasn’t feeling it. She felt she needed to wrap up her projects, make sure the organization is in responsible hands before she goes. Some guy named Ronnie’s primed for the position.

_What do you mean Cassie was feeling it?_

_  
_The weight of it all. Everything. Living, I guess.

_Yeah. Your two hours are probably almost up. You can still back out._

_  
_No I can’t. You know me Rachel, I could never really back out from anything.

_You never did Jake. Even when everyone was shouting at you, you stuck to your guns while you doubted yourself the whole time. That’s why we loved you._

_…_

_Marco’s not coming is he?_

_  
_I doubt it. I left him a letter before I came here, but I don’t think it’ll reach him. He’s off in fairyland, Rachel.

_He’ll come. We just have to be patient._

_  
_Patience? From you? You have changed.

_The bear teaches_ _alot._

I guess it’s my turn to learn rather than teach.

_Yup. Your_ _time is up cousin._

Finally. Let’s go. I want to see Tobias again.

A grizzly bear nudges the tiger next to it and the two unlikely companions walk slowly, deeper into the woods. Away from the flashbulbs, the memorial services, the public adulation. The Animorphs no longer need these things. The forest is cool and there is no longer a time limit. They will walk and bound and fly wherever the need takes them. There is no war. There is no peace. There will only be the road ahead.


	10. Rachel wanted to Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Rachel Mattered.

“Answer this, Ellimist: Did I … did I make a difference? My life, and my … my death … was I worth it? Did my life really matter?”

I looked down the streams of space-time, the shimmering strands that danced along, covered in colors I could barely describe. I saw…

 **Three Solar Years after Rachel Berenson’s death** , the assimilation of Aximili-Esgarrouth Isthill into the being that called itself The One. His last thoughts were of his Earth friends, the Animorphs. Jake, Marco, Cassie, Tobias, and Rachel. His memories gave him strength to hold back the tide of voices. He thought of Rachel in battle, her grizzly bloody and bleeding, but still protecting him with her own body. He did not give up.

 **The Call, Three Solar Years and Four Months after Death**. How Jake Berenson returned to his position as leader of the Animorphs. His resolve to not fail another comrade. His regret at not being able to save his cousin from both the polar bear and her own darkness. He named his ship the Rachel, as much out of love as of grief. Tobias was right. She would’ve loved it.

Cassie’s wedding to Ronnie Chambers. On that day, she wore a white wedding dress and impractical, high heels. After all the excitement had died down, she drove to Rachel’s grave and left a few of the pictures. She would’ve loved it as well.

 **Four Solar Years After Death** : When he gave the order, his desperate gambit to ram the Blade Ship, his thoughts were of Rachel.

The shattering of the One. Aximilli’s long, painful climb back to individuality. The Animorph’s return to Earth.

Tobias Fangor, my little keepsake, never stopped loving her. He returned along with the others and even I am unable to tell if he ever forgave Jake Berenson for what he did. But Tobias remembered Rachel. Her smile, her hair, her voice. He kept on living, working with the nothlits, finding a kind of comfort in helping the abused and downtrodden. He remembered Rachel’s hand on his face, how she was the first one to ever love him, and he kept living.

 **Five-Six Solar Years After Death** : The Second Yeerk War, with Andalites, Hork-Bajir, Humans and nothlit Yeerks defeating the Kelbrid-Infested and The Second Yeerk Empire led by The One. A momentous occasion, binding the victorious species tightly together. Blood has a way of doing that.

Rachel Berenson’s name and her memory were used as a rallying cry. Another symbol for the masses. They named a human capital ship after her as well. Jake didn’t like it, but he had to admit there was some truth to the myth. The warrior-woman who never gave up, who fought until her last breath. After all, he was willing to do the same thing, right?

Jake Berenson died in battle, as he’d always known he would. His last thought was of Rachel. At last, he could apologize, tell her in person. It seemed right.

 **Sixty Solar Years After Death** :

Cassie Chambers dies in her sleep, survived by her three children and five grandchildren. She was dreaming of Rachel when she expired. The times when they were both young and innocent. When they would make pillow forts and talk about boys. She died with a smile on her face.

I withdraw back across the strands of space-time, which make musical quivers as I pass. I look down at the small, afraid human soul in front of me. She is afraid, but she still stands tall. I smile bitterly. Even at the end, she is so brave.

“Yes,” I say. “You were brave. You were strong. You were good. You mattered… . ”

A small strand of space time went dark and coiled into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a cheap emotional gut-punch. But Rachel's question is the only one everyone wants to know the answer to in the end. Did they matter?


	11. The Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Animorphs go to a Wedding.

“I can’t believe I have to do this!” Marco groused.

“Well, it’s happening, so you might as well get used to it. At least you’ll look halfway decent for once.”

“Gee, Xena, thanks for the sympathy! Maybe you should come to the wedding in a tux too! See how the other half lives.”

Jake sighed absently. The Animorphs had a day off for once. The Yeerks had decided to lie low for a while, after the severe trouncing they had been given three days ago. Unfortunately for his sanity, Marco’s father was also getting remarried, so Marco felt the need to complain at every given opportunity. He wasn’t actually worried, as he recognized the undercurrent of amusement in Marco’s tone that meant he was only complaining for something to do. Rachel was likewise snipping at her longtime sparring partner for the same reason. Jake smiled slightly and closed his eyes. Tobias’s meadow was bathed in sunshine and the sky was a perfect shade of blue. He closed his eyes briefly, only to hear the distinctive tramping that signified Ax’s return from his lunch run.

<Prince Jake, why are Marco and Rachel arguing again? Have I missed a critical discussion?>

Jake didn’t open his eyes.

“You haven’t missed anything Ax. Marco’s father is getting married, and he feels the need to continue to complain about every aspect of the ceremony.”

“Hey! I’m not complaining about every aspect of the ceremony. I’m just pointing out a few areas that I feel could be improved! I mean, who really likes wearing all those tight shoes and itchy collars? Why can’t my dad just let me wear that Hawaiian shirt, like I suggested?”

“Because Marco, that shirt can be seen from space. I bet the Yeerks have picked it up on their monitors already.”

Ax stiffened, his tail whipping up to a ready position.

<Is this true? Does Marco have a shirt that can be seen by Yeerk scanners? We must destroy it immediately!>

Jake reluctantly opened his eyes and levered himself up to a sitting position from his resting place in the meadow grass. “No, Ax, Rachel’s being dramatic. Though,” he conceded, “It is a very colorful shirt.” Jake grinned suddenly. “Marco would have to be completely _insane_ to wear a Hawaiian shirt to a wedding.”

Marco slapped a hand to his forehead in acknowledgement of a point scored, then Ax’s next statement had him freeze.

<Well then, Marco, if your father is getting married, I must be in attendance! As your comrade-in-arms, it would be improper of me to miss such an important occasion.>

Jake’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into his hair. Marco was staring at Ax with something like astonishment, and Rachel burst into giggles. Ax gave Marco one of his Andalite smiles. Marco seemed to realize his mouth was hanging open and promptly shut it.

“You mean it Ax-man? You want to sit through a wedding? A long, torturous wedding, in horrible clothes, and with no soap operas?”

Ax looked affronted and took a step back. <Of course! It is an important event! > He tapped a hoof on the ground and suddenly looked embarrassed. <Of course, I had also head that there would be cake involved. And I do not have an _astari_ plant, as is customary on my world. I shall have to find a suitable substitute.>

Marco laughed suddenly and clapped Ax on the shoulder, causing him to stumble slightly. “Oh, this is going to be fantastic!” Jake groaned. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

________________________

Surprisingly, it wasn’t a nightmare. Marco and Jake managed to dig through their respective closets and cobble together a navy blue suit for Ax to wear during the ceremony, which lasted X hours. He managed, with Cassie and Rachel’s help, to slip away quietly and remorph with a minimum of fuss. Rachel did have to retie his tie though; a fact which she said owed her a Purple Heart for valor.

It was at the reception where the real trouble started. When everyone had filed away from the stuffy church to the far less stuffy open-air reception area, Jake had to physically restrain Ax from lunging at the cake. The bride and groom started the dancing, which fortunately gave the Animorphs some breathing room. Marco was stuck at the bride’s table, but he managed to keep an eye on Ax, switching out with Tobias when Rachel finally got tired of dragging her boyfriend across the dance floor. There was no dancing on the Andalite homeworld, so Ax watched the entire process with great interest. Unfortunately, one of the maids of honor, a teenager who had had perhaps a little too much champagne, asked Ax to dance.

“Unfortunately, miss, I am afraid-ayd I cannot dance with you.”

“Well, why not?”

“I have contracted a horrible disease that prevents me from dancing.”

The girl looked skeptical. “What is it?”

Tobias looked on in mute horror. He wasn’t any better at being human than Ax was. If he intervened, it might get worse.

“Chlamydia!” said Ax brightly.

Of course, Ax could do that just fine on his own.

———————————

“What’s going on now?”

Ax, Jake, and the rest of the male Animorphs were lounging in a vague half circle by the buffet table. Ax was contemplatively munching on a mini éclair. Tobias took pity on him and answered.

“I think the bride is going to throw the bouquet. Supposedly whoever catches the flowers will get married next.” Ax shuddered. “Mother was always trying to get Elfangor to meet someone new. I would stand next to her while she compiled lists of all the eligible females in the surrounding fields. At the time, I was upset because she wouldn’t play with me. And then Mother was upset, because Elfangor always rejected her lists, wouldn’t even look at them.”

They were silent for a while. “I suppose I understand now. I would not want to marry, and then leave for battle. Elfangor was right.” He looked up at Tobias and his eyes were full of tears. “I believe I may be about to cry. Forgive me.” He went to turn away, but Tobias impulsively hugged his uncle, trapping the éclair against his ear. “I have my family, even here.” Ax whispered into his ear. “I am so happy.”

Jake said nothing, but put a comforting hand on Ax’s shoulder. Marco did the same. The Animorphs stood there, united by war and friendship and family while excited cheers rang in the background. Someone else had hope for the future and for the moment, so did they.

————————

The wedding was wrapping up and guests were trickling out. Everyone had had a good time, or at least they hadn’t had a horrible time. Jake was exhausted, his tie undone and hanging around his neck. He’d danced with Cassie for a long time, his feet were sore, and he’d been worrying about Ax and Tobias all day. But it was worth it.

The Animorphs followed Marco to the door, where his father and Nora were waving goodbye to the last few friends who had stuck around. Ax was there, somehow in front of all of them. He was handing a brilliantly colored bouquet of flowers to the bride and a small envelope to the groom, who accepted it with a look of astonishment. Jake was no expert on flowers, but they were brilliantly colored, an explosion of purples, greens, yellows, and blues.

Ax’s face was dead serious, yet with a hint of a smile. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. ____. It was a pleasure to attend your wedding.”

Marco’s father appeared slightly dumbfounded. Was this the same kid who had once responded to all his questions with the word No?

“Uh..thanks. We were happy to have you here.”

Ax shook his head. “The honor is mine. “ His voice took on a formal, ritualistic note.

“May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

and rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again, dearest of friends,

I bid thee farewell.”

He bowed slightly, an echo of the formal Andalite bow Jake had seen only a few times before, then walked off towards the road.

The rest of the Animorphs and the newlyweds stood in stunned silence for a moment. Jake wished he could take a picture. Fortunately for him, the wedding photographer obliged.

**CLICK**

Marco caught up to him first.

“Ax-man, what was that?”

Ax stopped. ‘Have I done something wrong? I did much research, and made sure to not offend anyone, least of all your new family.”

He looked tense, almost cowering, as if he was afraid Marco might hit him.

“Nononono, God no. Ax, just explain it to me! What was all that?”

Ax relaxed. Inquisitive humans were something he was getting used to.

“During Andalite weddings, it is customary to give the couple gifts that in some way symbolize their new life together. I was unable to procure an _astari_ plant, so I improvised. I found a book on the language of Earth flowers and created a gift suitable for your new parents. I also managed to translate the traditional Andalite wedding verse into spoken word.”

Marco made a face, like he still wasn’t entirely reconciled with the concept of new parents, but Ax barreled on, relentless.

“I also gave your father a list of books on primitive human computer technology. I thought it appropriate, given all the trouble I accidentally caused last year.” Ax finished his rant and looked up hopefully, unsure of Marco’s reaction. His friend was grinning ear to ear. He grabbed Ax’s shoulder and shook him a few times, presumably a gesture of gratitude.

“Ax, I freakin’ love you, man.” “I also enjoy your company, Marco.” His friend laughed.

“Come on, I think there’s some cake left.”

Ax’s eyes lit up at the possibility of more cake, and off they went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took Ax's ending poetry from a scrap of a traditional Irish blessing. It seemed appropriate.


	12. Let It Go, but Never Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Animorphs books are always written as if the Animorphs are recording their thoughts for posterity, somehow. This is how it happened.

They will always debate who started it. Marco was the first one, etching out beginning scripts for his inevitable book deal. Cassie came afterwards, needing some kind of catharsis, but perhaps merely wanting to express what it felt like, to see and feel through an animal. It took a long time for anything else to come around. Tobias was impossible to reach of course, and Jake… Well, Jake didn’t want to talk. He had done enough talking for a lifetime.

Orders, screams, false encouragement, diplomatic meetings, testifying in court; defending Earth, in short.

But one day, after teaching another meaningless class to freshfaced recruits to morphing that could never really understand, he sat down at his desk, looked out at the wide bright lake in front of him and started to write.

At first it was freeform, emotions and thoughts and feelings and regrets, all flowing out of him like some kind of poison or a kind of honey long diluted in its formation. But gradually, structure formed. Small episodes, moments between friends, soldiers, broken individuals. And by the end, weeks later, he looked down at what he wrote and his heart was lightened a little. Not by much, for the burden that sat on his shoulders was one that would never truly go away. But his face lightened a small bit, his stance was no longer as hunched as it had once been.

And people noticed the change. His guards smiled a bit more around him, his students would be a little more at ease in their conversation, Marco, in one of their room meetings slapped him on the back and said “you look good my man!”

  
Jake returned his smile, slightly, which caused Marco to sit up from his habitual slouch and stare at him. And the look he gave Jake almost caused his old friend’s knees to go out from under him. For the look he was receiving was the old Marco, the intense calculating look of a strategist, probing for weakness, questioning, not the celebrity obsessed civilian he had become. And in that instant, Jake became aware that the entire past year was a façade, Marco’s clown mask to hide what he had become. They had changed from the children they once were, into soldiers, and then, after the war, it had seemed like Marco had changed once again. He had changed into someone entirely obsessed with himself and his image.

But he hadn’t. Not really.

And when he asked, Jake told him everything.

A few months after that conversation Marco tentatively contacted Cassie, arriving at her old house not in any stylish sports car surrounded by women, or in a private helicopter, but in osprey morph, just like old times. After meaningless small talk, how are you what are you doing, how are your friends, I saw you on the news the other day, oh that’s nice, they got down to business. Cassie refused to tell him where Tobias was, but after he brought up Jake and his writing, something changed in her demeanor. Marco had become an expert at reading people by now. It was a part of how he survived, how they all survived. And he could tell that she was suddenly listening, accepting his information, taking it in. Jake’s writing. His progress. How he talked about the others. Marco, Ax, Tobias, her, Rachel.

Above all else, Rachel.  
He was honest. And though a part of her hated him for being so honest, for revealing the truth of what she had become the slow descent into war, another part of her loved him for all the more. Because she’d become so caught up in the lies and the falsehoods and half-truths they all carried with them that his honesty was like a breath of fresh air in a long forgotten tomb. She felt something touch her face, and with a start, she realized she was crying. Crying for the children that they once were, that they could never be again, and above all what they had become. Marco turned away, to give her privacy, but also, she suspected, to hide his own shame. He left without a word.

A couple of months later, a package appeared on his doorstep, labeled simply, _Tobias_. Inside were a large pile of neatly written typewriter sheets, stamped in simple black ink. There was nothing else. Marco rebuffed his butler’s offer of aid and slowly carried the package inside, cradling it in his arms like the most fragile thing in the world. Far above him, a red-tailed hawk and an osprey wheeled silently away in the azure sky.


	13. First Contact & Last Communion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Rachel/Tobias relationship difficulties.

**First Contact**

Like all things Tobias initiated, it started slowly. For the most part, Tobias held himself apart from the other Animorphs on school nights, regardless of the weather or how he was feeling. But during one particularly harsh storm, Rachel heard the telltale tapping at her window.

She put down her pencil; studying for a history test she really didn’t care about anymore. Tobias was always a higher priority. But why had he shown up tonight, of all nights? The incident, no, torture, he had endured at the hands of Taylor was a few weeks past, but they all still bore the scars. Jake’s shoulders were heavier than ever before, no matter how confident his eyes or his actions were. Rachel still felt the urge to crush things with her hands whenever she thought about it.

And Tobias.

As she let him in to her room, along with a squall of wind and rain, she could tell he was shaking. Twitching, really.

“Tobias, what are you doing? It’s pouring outside! You could’ve been hit by lightning! “

He hopped closer, still shivering, and began to morph. Rachel obligingly turned her eyes away, but she could still hear the noises. Shifting organs, crunching bones.

She shuddered involuntarily. She heard that last sound every night in her dreams, the sound of Taylor’s skull as it pulped beneath her grizzly’s claws, when Tobias didn’t stop her. The noises stopped and she turned around.

Tobias was human, still in spandex and for once there was emotion on his face. He looked lost and terrified and uncertain all at once. As Rachel reached out a hand, lips parted to ask what was wrong, thunder struck, close enough to rattle the windows of the house. Tobias leaped about a foot into the air, arms beginning to move in a wingbeat, only to collapse to the floor.

Rachel knelt and stretched her hand out, just by Tobias’s and let it lie there. If he wanted to take it, he would. Tobias was never big on personal contact. Especially now. After a while, he took he hand in hers. A while longer, and Rachel fell asleep next to him on the hardwood floor, the smell of wet feathers or her history test completely forgotten. Tobias permitted himself another five minutes, stretching the time limit, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. Not after everything she’d done for him. She’d saved him from Taylor, and in return, he saved her from herself, that feeling of vengeance and terrible anger that Rachel confessed scared even her at times. But now, her face was peaceful, quiet and free from the nightmares that plagued them all at night.

He reluctantly demorphed, but he didn’t leave. He perched on her bedpost until the storm subsided, taking comfort in her presence. They hadn’t talked that night, but they didn’t need to. Being together was enough.

**Last Communion**

He returned a few nights after, but this time there was no storm.

It developed into a routine. Tobias would arrive around 9:30, after her sisters would go to bed and they would enjoy each other’s presence. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would not, sometimes Tobias would morph human, sometimes he would not, but regardless it always ended the same way. Tobias would run his beak through Rachel’s hair awake or asleep, then he would depart.

One night, he sprawled over Rachel’s bed, and she didn’t object. In fact, she joined him, and for a few hours, they could both forget the trauma and horrors that had brought them together and simply relax, melding together, flesh to flesh and skin to skin. But, like all the good moments in their lives, it had to end. Tobias had to demorph, and that necessity, the chain that held them apart, was something that not even her grizzly’s strength could break.

Rachel pulled herself up, heedless of modesty to catch his wing as it flared, to stop him from leaving. Tobias squawked impulsively and Rachel flinched, sure that one of her sisters would have heard it. That flinch was enough. For Tobias pulled his wing away and hopped to the window, open to a clear summer’s night.

<I…I’m not sure I can do this Rachel. It’s too much, too soon. Please! >

He was begging, and Rachel knew how much that cost him, to admit to being vulnerable when he tried so hard to be brave and calm for the others. But it was costing her too.

“I don’t care! You can’t just leave! Not after that! Dammit, are you going to walk out on me like this?”

Her voice was low, but even so, it was laced with betrayal and venom.

<I’m not! Never! I just…> He trailed off, uncertain. Tobias knew he was hurting her, and he hated that, hated himself with every particle of his soul. But he knew he needed to think, to be alone, to process what to do. The hawk brain wasn’t going to help. <I’m sorry Rachel. I will be back, I promise you that.>

He left.

A few minutes later, her younger sister, Sarah entered the room. “Rachel, what’s going on? I heard some weird noises.”

Rachel was turned towards the window, but her younger sister could still hear the pain in her voice. “Nothing…It’s nothing Sarah. Go back to sleep.”

Sarah left and Rachel Berenson was alone again.


	14. MarcOpera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco ties up some loose ends. His stepmother, really.

It wasn’t hard to find him of course. Getting to see him was much more difficult. It took all her remaining money, but she drove through the wall of polite dismissals and military classifications until Nora was standing outside his house at night, soaking wet from the rain. 

He let her in himself, the house darkened, the butler and all his hangers-on gone. She began to speak, but he put a finger to her lips and maneuvered them silently through the house until they arrived at the kitchen table. The piece of furniture was weathered and scatted, covered with old stains and the marks of accidental silverware slip-ups. She saw one scar on it she recognized, when Peter had been cutting his steak and slipped, slashing a diagonal line across the varnish and grain of the table. That seemed like an image from a dream, something that had happened hundreds of years ago.

They sat at the table, still silent, studying each other for a moment. Marco had clasped his hands together in front of his mouth, she couldn’t read his expression. Nora spoke first. “I want to see Peter.” Marco shook his head. “You can’t.” he said simply. His voice held no inflection, no emotion. It was as if he was stating a law of the universe:Nora can’t see Peter.

She glared at him now, uncertainty giving way to anger and indignation. “He is my husband! I can see him whenever i want! What gives you the right to hold me back?" 

Marco brought his hands down, and it was as if a mask had fallen away. Nora saw that the bright, funny, joking boy she had seen and scolded in her math class was gone, if he had ever existed in the first place. The boy sitting across from her wore the face of a battle-hardened tactician, someone who had sent men to their deaths and approved, knowing it would further a cause. As Marco stared at her with a look that was far to old and calculating for someone his age, Nora became suddenly aware that she was alone in a dark house, surrounded by a storm. For someone like him, it would be very easy to hide a body.

Marco spoke, his voice piercing the veil of fear that had descended on her brain. "You can’t see him because I won’t let you. I have my family back now, and you are not in it.” His voice was low, calm, and completely steady, but in the silence of the empty house, they fell like tombstones on Nora’s ears. “ I can offer you anything. Money, a new identity, a new life wherever you want. But you can not have my father.”

Tears were falling down Nora’s cheeks, making little pools in the divots and depressions of the table. she was sobbing quietly now, little hiccups of emotion that destroyed her composure. “I love him.” She repeated it again, as if the mantra would change his mind. “I love him, I love him. Please!”

Marco shook his head, an olive and black statue, draped in shadow. “No.” There was no change in his tone, no hint of clemency. Nora bowed her head, resting it on the tabletop. She felt spent, wrung out and tossed aside like an old dishcloth. Marco slid a blank passport across the table, leaving it next to her head, then disappeared back into the shadows of the house. Slowly, Nora reached out and moved the little booklet closer.

A week later, Nora was on a jet to Greece with $200,000 and the remaining Animorphs were attending a ceremony. The destruction of the Yeerk Pool and the subsequent obliteration of the surrounding town by Bug Fighters had left hundreds dead, maybe even thousands. They were still pulling bodies out of the ruins. The audience was all gathered in front of an enormous granite slab, with the names of the missing and the dead. Marco had paid for Nora’s inscription himself. _It was only fair,_ he thought.

And as he watched his father collapse, sobbing as he saw the name and leaning into Eva for support, his eyes were dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marco rarely allowed himself to be a stone-cold bastard often in-series, so I wanted to tease that out.


	15. MarcOpera, Again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco slid into the celebrity life a little too easily. It was, of course, a calculated move. Now he could protect those who remained.

I’ve been alot of things. I’ve been a gorilla, a cobra, a giant squid and a house fly. I’ve been a comedian, a tactician, but above all, I’ve been an actor.

It’s my good looks, mostly. One look from my dark, soulful eyes and women just go weak at the knees. At this point, Rachel would probably throw some joke right back at me, saying that they just couldn’t stand my breath or something. But she can’t, because she’s dead.

I saw it happen. The horrible and incredible brawl in the Blade Ship, where Rachel was outnumbered six to one and still managed to win. Not to live, but to win. I saw the polar bear hit her hard enough that her head _twisted_ in a way that human heads shouldn’t. But I’m an actor, just like Rachel was a warrior or Jake a leader, so I did what I had to do. I wiped aside my tears and did what had to be done. 

When the Andalites landed, when we were sure they weren’t going to slag the Earth, I knew that wasn’t the end. Jake and the others might have though it was, but I knew it wasn’t. The war we fought with the claws and fangs and teeth of the animal kingdom was over, but the war of words was about to start and that, in some ways, was more important. The blame game, the spin doctors, the politics. The world just got a whole lot bigger for a whole lot of people and the Animorphs were going to have to lead them into it. 

Looking around on the Pool Ship, I saw what needed to be done. Jake was destroyed. He was talking to the Andalite Prince in his Command Voice, the one that I would follow anywhere, but I could sense the emotions raging inside him. I knew this was his last act as the leader of the Animorphs. Cassie had demorphed, her eyes staring blankly at a spot on the wall in between Jake and the viewscreen where Rachel had died. She wasn’t going to help. Tobias was out of the question. There was only me.

So I did what had to be done. I ran interference, played to the media, showed the Earth who we were, what we had done, what we had sacrificed. I kept my parents and my friends out of the spotlight. After everything they had suffered, they deserved peace. I sent Nora away. I’m not proud of that, but it was necessary. I might, on my dark days, even go so far as to say it was right. On some days it felt like I was one of those handmade dolls, stitched together messily and filled to bursting, with the stuffing leaking out. But I would always push the stuffing back in and keep going. 

Look at me you bastards. Look at Marco. Not at Jake. Not at Ax. Not at Cassie. Not at my parents. Look at me!

It worked. I became rich, famous, everything I had ever wanted when Dad and I were living in that crummy wreak of a house on the bad side of town. But the taste was bitter in my mouth. I did what every great actor should never do: I lost myself in the role. I went to nightclubs, I drank, I had scandalous articles written about me in _Us_ and T _oday_. I became something other than myself. But that was ok. Because as long as I kept the spotlight on me, stuck to the official version of events, my friends would be safe. 

And then one day, they weren’t. I see a peregrine falcon and a red-tailed hawk circling above me in the sky and for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed. Another mission, another fight. I would probably get disemboweled again. But then the past three years hit me in the gut like a punch from the heavyweight champion of the world. Rachel dead. Jake a shattered man. Cassie burying herself in work, trying to move past the guilt. Tobias retreated into the hawk. Ax off in the far reaches of space. Everything had changed. But I hadn’t changed. I could see hidden underneath the fluff and glitter of the past three years, the same stitched doll I was all along.

I’m still Marco the Animorph. I’m still an actor, still a tactician, a comedian. But most of all, I’m Jake’s soldier. 


	16. The Meadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel dies and finds someone unexpected. She gets a little upset.

Rachel was thoroughly perplexed. She’d been ready to die, she’d gotten a send off from the Ellimist, strange as it was, and she’d had her one question answered. She was set to go into the light, meet Saint Peter or whatever, and now she was standing in a grassy field. There was a perfect circle of white and yellow flowers around her, and the grass tickled her feet. 

It was at this point that Rachel noticed she was wearing jeans, her favorite tank top and holding a new pair of Jimmy Choos. She would have found this last item very interesting before the war, but the Rachel that enjoyed shopping had been shoved into a dark place and locked there for a very long time. Cautiously, she stepped out of the circle and placed her new shoes on the grass.

When nothing exploded, screamed, or dissolved into the Drode’s cackling, Rachel decided to take this meadow at face value. So, being the sensible person she was, Rachel sat down in the meadow and put on her shoes.

 _If I’m dead,_ she thought, _I might as well look my best._

Peering towards the distance, she managed to make out the telltale shine of water and the brownish smudge of trees beyond. If she really wanted to get there in a hurry, Rachel could’ve morphed, but she’d had enough of morphing. She wanted to feel with her own skin, not one she’d borrowed. So Rachel Berenson began to walk. The sun shone gently down upon her shoulders, the sky was a clear blue, and she was, for the moment, happy.

After a while, Rachel reached the lake, a little sweaty and with the pleasant burn in her muscles that suggested a good workout. She huffed slightly in annoyance. “I really did let myself go, didn’t I?” she asked the air. “Wonder if there are parallel bars around here.”

<Somehow I doubt that, Rachel Berenson.>

The voice was strangely familiar and Rachel spun on her heel to locate it. An Andalite was walking out of the forest just beyond the lake, waving one azure arm to ensure she spotted him. He, for Rachel somehow knew it was a he, galloped closer and drew up as they met near the lakefront. Rachel narrowed her eyes, chin in hand as she studied him. “Wait… I think I know you. Have we met before?” The Andalite bowed. <But of course. Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul at your service.>

He performed a deep, sweeping, Andalite bow, holding one of his hands over his heart and dipping his front two legs in a flowing, strangely elegant gesture. Then Rachel punched him in the face.

____________________________________

He staggered, weaving slightly to the left in confusion, bringing his tailblade up to a battle stance, but Rachel didn’t care. She lashed out, blindly throwing punches, teeth bared.

“I don’t BELIEVE this! After all this time, after everything we’ve suffered, you just show up out of nowhere and expect me to greet you like an old friend?” Her voice was mocking, a mixture of anguish and hate that made Elfangor’s eyestalks widen in surprise. He hadn’t expected the girl to be this upset.

“We spent years, YEARS, fighting the Yeerks you warned us about! Hell, you forced us to fight!”

Elfangor ducked his head as a punch sailed over his head and resisted the urge to knock the human into unconsciousness with the flat of his blade. As much as he hated himself to admit it, she was entirely in the right. But he was not going to roll over and accept a beating by a human child, just because he had wronged her. He had a reputation to keep up after all, as the best tail-fighter in the military. So he ducked or deflected her punches as best as he could and listened in silence.

“You gave us just enough damm power. We couldn’t escape with a clear conscience, not after what happened! And we kept going, we were sure your precious Andalites were going to save us, but they didn’t.”

<And just what did they do, then?> said Elfangor calmly, deflecting a kick towards his legs with a brief swipe of his tail. That was rude.

“DO!?” Rachel laughed, a sound without a shred of humor in it. “They were going to **virus bomb** our whole planet, then try and work out a peace treaty while we died in agony!”

Elfangor froze, a moment to long and Rachel’s fist connected with his chest, causing what he could tell was going to be a significant bruise later. He grabbed her hands within his and dragged her closer, looking the blonde warrior directly in the eyes. <Tell me everything.>

____________________________________

They sat together at the lake for a long time as Rachel told her story. She told Elfangor how hard they had fought, how horrible the nightmares were, how all the wounds, healed or not, were really his fault. How he, Elfangor had had the audacity, the sheer gall to die and dump the entire defense of Earth on six kids who really had no idea what they were doing. She hit him a few more times and Elfangor swallowed his pride and took the blows. She was right. It wasn’t fair that they had both had to die, that they had to life through the things they had, the decisions they’d been forced to make. 

When she cried, he ran his hands through her hair, as he remembered Loren had liked and told her stories of his own. Warriors he had known, stories of the Andalite Homeworld, his guide tree, Hala-Falla, everything he could to lessen the hurt he could feel spilling out from this girl like an open wound.

They both knew there was no going back. There was no way to change what had happened and according to Rachel’s story, the Time Matrix was long gone. All the hurt and suffering simply had to be borne, or washed away. And gradually, it was.

The wounds no longer seemed as present, the nightmares became a dim memory. Instead, they both found themselves talking about more pleasant times. Elfangor asked after Tobias at every opportunity and Rachel took great pleasure at describing him in exquisite detail. Even as her memories of slaughter faded, she still remembered Tobias with crystal clear clarity, down to the individual feathers on his wings. 

Elfangor, his eyes shining with pride and unshed tears, drank in every word that left her lips. When he first learned of his son’s nothlit fate, he’d bowed his head and left Rachel for a short time, disappearing deep into the forest. Rachel heard from afar the whip-like cracks of his tailblade and saw the horizon shift as several trees fell, succumbing to Elfangor’s grief and rage. But he returned, as they both always did.

The girl and the Andalite slowly found themselves laughing far more than they had ever expected during the darkest days of the war and it was good. It really was funny how the little details were the things they clung to, in whatever strange world this was. Tobias had hair the exact same shade as his father’s human morph, he and his mother shared that peculiar quirk where their smile would light up a room, transforming their face. And if the sweetness was mixed in with bitterness and lost opportunity, well then, that made it even more precious, didn’t it? Thus did time pass in this endless sunny field for the two warriors.

But all things must end. And so before long, an echoing thunderclap split the field, echoing far beyond their own position near the lake. A bolt of golden light pierced down from the sky and impacted the ground a ways off. Curious, Rachel and Elfangor made there way towards the impact sight, only to stop in their tracks.

They could only see a small clump of people in the distance, but above them was a hawk, red feathers shining through. 


	17. Searching for Civilization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tying up another loose end, the Animorphs link up with a bunch of Marines for a special mission.

It took them longer than expected to convince the government that what they were saying was true. Cassie and Jake weren’t surprised, while Marco and Rachel were exasperated. After everything that’s happened, when spaceships land on the Mall and teenagers save the world, you’re skeptical about merpeople? But they did acquiesce, in the end. 

The Animorphs took a ship from Camp Pendleton, with Marco jabbering the entire way about how COOL some of this was. But it was just a cover, a distraction, and the other Animorphs knew it. The Marines treated them with a mixture of annoyance and respect, which Jake understood. Annoyance, because to them, these were celebrities to be kept out of the line of fire. Respect, because they had heard or seen the reports of the Animorph’s battle prowess. Regardless, Jake was glad they were doing this. He squeezed Cassie’s hand, and felt her squeeze back in response. A silent assurance. They’d made it. They would still make it. 

Rachel and Tobias were up at the bow of the ship, the wind and spray tossing Rachel’s hair every which way and ruffling Tobias’s feathers. She laughed at his surprised exclamation, and his claws tightened on the metal railing. “You know,” she shouted over the thrumming of the ship’s engine and the woosh of the ocean, “you can always morph to something else if you’re uncomfortable. I can keep watch just fine.” Tobias turned his head and stared at her with one fierce orange eye.

<You know we need a lookout Rachel. I’m our best bet.> Rachel rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through his feathers, calming him. His death-grip on the railing loosened a little. “Are you going to be ok here? After what happened last time?” Tobias shivered, but wether it was from the breeze or her contact, Rachel wasn’t sure. Probably both. <I’ll be fine Rachel.> His voice softened. <Thanks.>

A cry went up from the rear of the ship, the navigation tower. “We’ve arrived! All hands, prepare for amphibious assault!” Suddenly, the Animorphs were at odds, the military personnel rushing to their respective stations, only the teenagers out of place. They met up at the starboard side of the ship, Ax arriving at the same time as his nephew. Jake gave him one raised eyebrow, an invitation to explain. <My apoligies, Prince Jake. I was in the control room, offering assistance with the scanning systems. I was trained somewhat in that department on the Dome Ship.> He almost sounded regretful. Jake shook his head, dismissing the matter, then turned to a mustachioed man standing next to him in a wetsuit. 

“This is Captain Mitchell, he’ll be our liaison today.” Jake gave a slight smirk, a quick upturn of the mouth barely noticeable to outsiders. “Let’s all be on our best behavior today.” Marco nodded, translating in his head. _In other words, be polite, but pushy when you need to._ Jake continued, all business. “We’ll be directing the other combat teams into the cavern, then they’ll support us while we come out swinging. Ideally, we get this done with a minimum of bloodshed, but you all remember last time.” Marco rubbed his stomach and Cassie grimaced. Last time, they’d all nearly been stuffed and mounted. Jake turned to the Captain. Sir, I appreciate your team taking the time to indulge our little expedition, but I’m going to warn you. When we morph, no matter how horrid it looks, I do not want to be shot at. Save your bullets for hostiles only.“ 

The Captain scoffed, as if Jake had insulted him personally. "Son, if what you say is true, we’ll be needing everything here. I don’t intend to do anything stupid here. if any of mine give you trouble, I’ll tan their hides myself.” Underneath the mustache, Jake could see a hint of a smile, so he smiled back. His no-nonsense briefing and attitude must have impressed this man. Jake was pleased. Others might have found it sad that Jake Berenson now had more in common with a soldier three times his age than with other high school students. The Animorphs merely took it in stride.

Five minutes later, the Animorphs and their Marine escorts were situated over the exact spot they had been looking for. The submarine cavern that housed the Nartec Civilization. Jake took a deep breath, then another. Then he bellowed: “ANIMORPHS, LAUNCH!” As all six of them jumped, dove, or floundered into the sea below and began to morph, he could hear Cassie and Marco giggling. <You always wanted to say that, didn’t you?> As his face elongated into a dolphin snout, Jake couldn’t help but grin. <Maybe.>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Nartec civilization was horrific, disturbing even to Visser 3, and out of left field. As a filler book, it was just sort of left there, so I had the kids head back there to bury what needed burying. I planned to write more about this, but that idea was long ago and is dead as a doornail.


	18. Time Well Spent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the Animorphs relax. WAFF

After all the initial excitement has died down, the Animorphs get their house out in the country and settle down. (As if the Animorphs could ever truly settle down) Here is what they do to pass the time:

Jake gives leadership classes and speeches at the local college. He enjoys the challenge of vocalizing some of his thought processes, meeting young people who eventually stop thinking of him as “Jake the Animorph” but as Professor Berenson. He’s known to challenge some of the students to pickup basketball games and is very popular. He spends the weekends reading books at the kitchen table, often drifting through the house as he reads.

Marco spends most of his time acting as the Animorph’s PR agent and accountant, and he complains every minute he can. Cassie and Tobias use Marco’s “services” the most on account of their activism, but Marco’s managed to incorporate that into the budgets and schedules he has slowly grown to enjoy making. Of course, that’s not to say he’s grown stuffy and uninteresting. Marco’s the one who fields foreign dignitaries and public figures, and he often drags Rachel and Tobias with him on trips. They give the State Department headaches on occasion, with one memorable visit to meet the President of Costaguana devolving into an all out-revolt by the oppressed working class, led of course by the three Animorphs. The 22 hour revolt is on record as one of the most televised in the history of the world. Upon returning to the States, they were greeted by the glares of Jake, Cassie, Ax, and the Head of the CIA. It’s hard to say who intimidated them more.

Cassie does what she’s always wanted to do, help people. She occupies much the same position as in Book 54, an animal rights activist and works with Tobias and Toby Hamee regarding the Free Hork-Bajir. However, she works much closer to home and morphs more frequently. On the weekends, she usually is the first one up and can be found on the swinging porch with a cup of coffee or tea. Cassie often fiddles with a small garden next to the house along with Ax.

Tobias has morphed permanently to human and after a period of adjustment, has managed to find a better life than the one he left behind all those years ago. He is officially married to Rachel and divides his time between helping the Hork-Bajir and helping the Yeerks, oddly enough. Though the last subject led to some truly impressive rows among the Animorphs, it has been reconciled or at least, willfully ignored. With the core of the nothlit push from the Yeerk Peace Movement, Tobias has finally found a cause to champion. He is working with Yeerks and humans from many fields, trying to find ways Yeerks can peacefully integrate themselves into society. Tobias can boast significant improvements in autism as well as mental research, prisoner parole, and communal lifestyles with Yeerks sharing human lives and accomplishments. He has visited the Yeerk and Andalite homeworlds and has high standing on both. On the weekends, Tobias can be found engaging in whatever ariel sport strikes his fancy and has recently acquired a pilot’s license. He still misses his wings.

Aximilli-Esgarrouth-Isthill is perhaps the most well-known Andalite of his time having manned expeditions searching out new civilizations and destroying stubborn holdouts of the Yeerk Empire. After the Battle of Tresta, where Aximili managed to capture Visser 29 without a shot fired, he decided to retire from military service on a high note. He is also a prolific author, having published his Earth Diary and several cookbooks. Ax has officially retired from civilian duty and spends his time guiding classes of Andalite tourists through the subtleties of Earth.

Rachel never really stopped, she just narrowed her focus. After several wild, crazy, and well publicized adventures, she settled down as the chief of police for the city. Crime has never been lower. She has lunch with Melissa Chapman every Wednesday and has never missed an appointment.

**Author's Note:**

> This could've been a larger fic, I still have the notes for it, but the details of the Efascil Device I'd invented was driving me around the bend. Ultimately this was based on the classic idea of flipping the script so bad guys are good and vice versa. Some interesting ideas with the Andalite villains running essentially eugenics programs while the Yeerks prefer life in all its complicated messy glory.
> 
> The Efascil Device would essentially allow users to run their bodies like a game character with Captain America skills. Can run as fast as Usain Bolt, for as long as the best marathon runner. Can lift as much as the world's strongest man, for as long as possible, ect. Put together with a Yeerk, who would allow for two minds in one body, it was an inverse morphing ability, essentially.


End file.
